Skylark's Dragon
by thewandcrafter
Summary: An apprentice comes to the Romanian Dragon Reserve, and Charlie Weasley, Dragon Master, disapproves. And then his brother, his brother's girlfriend, and his brother's best mate, Harry Potter, disappear and the war on Voldemort heats up...
1. Skylark's Dragon Part 1

_The universe contained herein belongs to J.K. Rowling. The original characters and plot are mine, and my responsibility.  
No dragons were harmed in the crafting of this story._

This story was written at the request of, and to fend off demands of, my dear friend Skylark. She has approved it, and thus, it is free to roam the fanfic universe, seeking out friends and loved ones. I hope you like it. 3

_Reviews feed the hungry dragons. And the dragon handlers. And the author._

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**Skylark's Dragon**  
by Carol Oster  
July 2012

Skylark Amber Dessirei wiped sweaty palms on the tight green pants she wore under the strangely form-fitting black robe that was the uniform of a dragon-handler. The piping at cuff, hem and seams was also green, as befit her Slytherin origins, but the cowl was lined in garish yellow and crimson, alternating in wide stripes – the mark of an apprentice. This would allow the dragon handlers to keep an eye on the least experienced member of their team. Sky was determined to shed that designation as soon as was wizardly possible, though just now, her dry mouth, pounding heart, and trembling hands made the mere idea laughable.

"I can do this," she admonished herself. "I didn't study Advanced Care of Magical Beasts for two years beyond NEWTs to spend my life in a pet shop on Diagon Alley!"

This apprenticeship was a plum position. She'd scarcely believed her eyes when she read the post that arrived by Owl a mere three weeks into summer. Roberto Amato, the head dragon handler, had sent her a warm letter, congratulating her on completing her studies, and complimenting her post-NEWT academic accomplishments, the quality of her application, and her responses during the interview process for the single post that was open for an apprentice at the Romanian Dragon Reserve. Two of her fellow trainees had applied to the Welsh Reserve, and had encouraged her to join them, wanting to keep their trio together, but not even the lure of another year with James and Trevor was enough to keep her in Britain. She'd wanted – no – she'd _needed_ – to get as far away as possible, so that her father and brother had no possible excuse to demand her presence… and so that she could, perhaps, figure out who she was.

Dragon handler Roberto Amato's letter had been accompanied by a list of equipment she would need to bring with her. _Burn ointment_ – she winced when she saw that heading the list. _Tebo-hide boots, gloves, pants and robe_ – the first three in House colors, and the robe accented in the same – though next to _Robes _was the word _Apprentice_, underlined twice, for emphasis. The boots and gloves were to be treated with a permanent _Incendio Impervio _as added precaution. She needed a broom – something sturdy, definitely _not _a racing broom, as those were too dainty for the field.

The pants and robes were awkwardly tight, but designed to move with the dragon handler like a second skin, and prevent catches on rough scales, horns, talons, or even brambles. When Sky tried on the size the clerk insisted was right, she was equally insistent the size was wrong. A consultation with the specialist in professional attire, however, finally convinced her that the clerk knew what she was talking about, and she reluctantly agreed to take them on a trial basis. The shirt to be worn under the robe was, she gratefully noted, a loose, flowing, open-weave affair, more tunic than shirt, really. It came in multiple colors, so she chose a white silky dress tunic as suitable for all occasions, green for her House, a blue that matched her eyes, and a dusky grey that matched the pants. The clerk knowledgeably suggested a number of work-a-day cotton tunics as well, and she added those.

She'd been instructed to either cut her hair or have a supply of leather hair ties to hold it off her face and capture it so it would not be loose. Her request for dragon pox and dragon fever potions, which had to be ordered specially, caused the owner of the apothecary to beam at her in a congratulatory smile. "Dragon Apprentice, eh?" the man had said with a grin. "You're a bit… _female _for the job, aintcha? Mosta' them dragon catchers are boys, now, ain't they?"

Sky tried not to take offense – not on her own behalf, anyway. "Dragon _handlers"_, she corrected quietly.

She knew female dragon handlers were rare – not many girls set their sights on working with the huge, forbidding, flaming beasts, but something in Sky responded to them, found them noble, and rather than being frightened of them, she felt an empathic response. The thought of them in chains, guarding the deepest vaults of Gringotts, nearly undid her, as if their captivity mirrored her own. During the Triwizard Tournament, held when she was in her seventh year, she was angered, sickened, and nearly broke down at the cruel hoax that had been perpetrated upon four dragons – in the name of _sport_, for Merlin's sake! She couldn't understand how the dragon handlers had allowed such a thing – taking clutching females and threatening their eggs – at least as far as the poor beasts knew – and putting the unborn dragons at risk of losing their mothers. What if one of the contestants had killed one of the mares? The babies would have been motherless, and who would have cared for them? As far as she was concerned, the Tournament had lost all of its appeal at that moment. She had not bothered to attend the Yule Ball, and attended the other tasks only to assure herself that no other beasts were being abused.

That was when she'd made her final choice of career. Her path in the care of magical beasts had been clear enough, but she had thought to work in research, or international studies, within the Beast Division of the Ministry of Magic. Her empathic response to the four dragons, though, sealed her fate. Or so she'd tried to explain to her father.

He had been apoplectic that she'd turned down the Malfoys' offer to facilitate her path into the Ministry. She'd refused for a few reasons. First, she preferred to earn her own way, thank you very much, not have it handed to her as a political "favor". Second, she had no interest in being her father's political pawn within the Ministry. If she'd accepted, she'd "owe" him – or so he would have insisted. And she would have been expected to pay back the "favor" – probably for as long as she lived.

And finally, she didn't like Lucius Malfoy. The man's, calculating, appraising stare and the lewd way he looked over her… curves… made her queasy. The dinner party at which her father had introduced them, the man had grabbed her by the arse and squeezed so hard, she'd practically had to tear her dress robes off, to get out of his slimy grasp. Just thinking about it made her curdle in shame and feel like hexing the bullocks off every man in sight. Her father had had the _gall _to blame _her _for it, as if the loose, shapeless robes she wore were, somehow, provocative. And then – what's worse – he'd told her to "relax and enjoy it." She could have screamed. But if she had, it would have been ten times worse. As it was, her father and brother had made it clear, after the party, that they expected her to do whatever it took to succeed – "even if that means sleeping your way to the top!" She _had _to get out of here!

So, she'd made her escape, planned it, really – knowing all along that she'd apply to the number one apprenticeship in the world, to train with the elite group that were the Romanian dragon handlers. While she had hoped, she had never really allowed herself to dream of success.

But here she was, mid-July, 1997, standing in her new tent in the middle of half a dozen or so others, in Romania. The roars of dragons echoed off the mountainsides, and flashes of dragons' fiery breath made strange shadows appear against the canvas on the side of the tent that faced the forest. She cast a _tempus. _Eight-fifteen. She'd been told to wait in her tent for an escort to dinner, and not to be wandering out of the tent alone. Inhaling nervously and wiping sweaty hands on her robe for the twentieth time, she stepped to the entrance and pulled back the flap so she could see out. It was approaching sundown here. She briefly wondered what time it was in England, but didn't bother to calculate the time difference.

"Weren't you told to stay in your tent? What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

A tall, thin, dark-haired dragon handler shoved at Sky's shoulder, pushing her roughly back into the tent and slamming the flap down, but not before glaring at her and snarling, "Follow directions, or you'll get yourself killed – or worse – one of us or a dragon!"

_Oh, bullocks! I've screwed up already!_ she thought. Before she could follow that train of thought, though, the flaps parted and a short, stocky, red-haired wizard in robes that bore the crest and colors of a Gryffindor dragon handler took one step inside.

"I apologize for not knocking," he said with a grim smile. "Stewart can be a bit of a prig – especially when he's just been burnt."

"He's hurt?" Sky's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, no! I'm so sorry… should I go apologize?"

"For what? It's not as if standing here caused the dragon to go all apeshit on him. It was his own bloody fault. He turned his back and his cloak flared. The dragon was startled, is all." The dragon handler shrugged it off as if having one's back singed by a panicky dragon was an everyday occurrence. _Which it might be,_ Sky realized. She eyed the man. He had a burn scar down the left side of his face, and his robe was lightly singed at the hem. The backs of his square hands were scarred with what looked like small pin-dots of burns, along with several larger burn scars. She thought they were beautiful, and that his scar turned his rather plain face into something alluring in a very masculine way.

"I'm Charlie, by the way," the man said, moving forward and extending his hand. "Charlie Weasley." _Weasley._ She knew the name of course. So this was one of Fred and George's older brothers. Sky looked up into his warm brown eyes, then startled when she realized she was staring, and his hand was still extended. Blushing, she hastily stuck out her hand. "Sky. Skylark Amber Dessirei. I was a year ahead of your brothers – Fred and George." The man smiled with genuine warmth, and his face transformed before it flicked back to professional. They shook hands. She'd expected his hand to be rough, but it was surprisingly soft.

"Welcome to the Romanian Dragon Reserve, Skylark Amber Dessirei," the man said. "Let's get something to eat. I'm starved."

Charlie Weasley led the new apprentice to the head dragon handler's tent. Ordinarily, the rowdy group rotated dinner duties and hosting amongst themselves, but Roberto thought something more formal was appropriate to welcome their trainee. While Charlie had voted against this applicant, he'd obviously been overruled. He wondered who, amongst his fellow handlers, had voted for the girl, and whether his had been the only negative vote. His first impression of her had only been confirmed by her clammy handshake and her cowed response to Stewart's aggravation.

He sighed. This was going to be a problem. Dragon handlers were a rough lot. Bad enough to have a girlin camp. A spineless male would have been as much a problem. No one could afford to second-guess their teammates when facing down an angry, wounded, or distressed dragon. Even the youngsters were dangerous. He'd have to… He stopped. He'd been going to say he'd have to warn the others to watch their own tails as well as hers, but… that was unfair. He had to at least _try _to give the girl a test flight at it. He gave a mental shrug. She'd fly or fall on her own, he supposed.

They arrived at the tent and he held the flap open for her. She frowned at him and shook her head. He waited impatiently for her to precede him. Was she that easily quenched during the interview process? He didn't remember it being _that _bad! If she was going to go all Welsh Green on them at the first sign of flame, she wouldn't make it 'til Christmas!

The girl must finally have at least gotten _some _smoke in her, if not flame, because she abruptly shook her head, squared her shoulders, and stalked into the tent like some haughty Chinese Fireball. He followed her in, half expecting her to smell of cinnamon.

"Skylark Amber Dessirei," he announced. The group of handlers, smelling of sweat, smoke, and dragon, and barely cleaned up enough for dinner, turned and looked, all of them smiling except for Stewart, who was snarling like a Hungarian horntail.

"Sky," the girl said, moving forward to shake hands. She headed straight for Roberto, which was natural, since she'd met him and knew he was the head of their small group.

"Welcome, Sky," the man said, and held her hand a moment too long, in Charlie's opinion. He shook his head and leaned against the wall of the tent, muscled arms crossed over his chest. She moved next to shake hands with Daniel, the eldest of those present – and therefore the wisest. _Un_wise dragon handlers didn't live to be old. She shook hands with each of them in turn, save Stewart, with whom she had the sense to limit herself to a nod. Well, she had _some _self-preservation instinct, then.

The talk around the camp table was of dragons and home. Though Stewart, Charlie and Jamie had attended Hogwarts and were Scottish, English and Welsh, respectively, Roberto was from Columbia; Daniel from New Zealand, and Henry from America. Sky relaxed into the casual banter, and asked questions about the post-Newt level training the others had completed. Daniel, being the eldest, had had the least formal training, though he said it was simply "the way things were done," in his country. He'd come to the Romanian Reserve "for adventure," he said, as New Zealand and Australia boasted only one true dragon, the Antipodean Opaleye. When he talked about it, his face took on a dreamy look, and his gaze seemed to be in the past as he described the creature's pearly scales and whirling, multi-colored, multi-faceted eyes. Sky determined that someday, she'd visit New Zealand and see the beautiful beast for herself. Daniel responded enthusiastically and offered to take her himself, his one good eye twinkling at her.

That led to an argument over "the best" dragon. Everyone seemed to have their favorite breed. Not surprisingly, Stewart preferred his country's Hebredian Black. His clan, the McFasty's, had the exclusive care of the Scottish beast, and that accounted for his presence here – there were three such beasts on the Romanian Reserve, all of whom had been injured violating the airspace of others of their kind, who were violently territorial, needing one hundred square miles each. The Romanian Reserve was the only preserve large enough to contain them without triggering a battle that would have ended up with one or both combatants dead.

"What's your favorite dragon, Skylark?" Stewart asked with narrowed eyes.

Sky, who'd been listening avidly to the discussion, blushed as all eyes turned to her. "As all my knowledge is theoretical," she said carefully, "it would be a bit premature for me to choose, I think. Ask me again in three months."

Jamie clapped her on the back and laughed. "There you go, Stu. She's a smart one, isn't she, to avoid your trap!"

Stewart scowled, but gave a grudgingly respectful nod.

The evening concluded with a review of the schedule for the next day. They would rise before dawn to check on broody mares – particularly the Romanian Longhorn, hunted nearly to extinction due to the demand for its horns, used in so many critical potions. The breeding program on the reserve was literally the only thing that kept the species extant. Stewart would be off to check his injured Hebredians. Camp would move to where the Portuguese Longsnouts had last been seen. At a mere twenty feet long, they were agile, quick flyers, but sometimes in danger from other, larger beasts. Tracking them was tricky, because they were adept at hiding in amongst the caves and the upper reaches of the forest, where their light green scales blended with the fir trees near the timberline. After that, the group would split for a week – half returning to the Romanian Longhorns, half heading off to check each of the territories in turn, watching for poachers. Sky would go with the second group, to learn her way around the Reserve and acquaint herself with each of the dragon species in their care.

Sky headed back to her tent, took out her work clothes and laid them over a chair, tucked a vial of burn ointment into the pocket of her tebo-hide robe, and lay down on the bed. She was too excited to sleep, she thought, and cast a _Tempus_. Ten-thirty. What time was it at home? She shrugged. It did not matter. She turned over and tried to sleep, to no avail. Finally, she breathed a soft sigh and got up, going to her tent flap to look out into the night. Thirty feet away or so, the silhouette of a dragon handler was black against the starry skyline. Charlie Weasley stood outside his tent, tensely looking off in some direction or another. Sky held her wand flat on her open palm. "Point me," she whispered, and the wand spun to point in the direction the rigid Dragon Handler was staring. _Home_. Sky watched until the dragon handler passed a hand over his face, his shoulders tense, shook off whatever it was, and turned heavily back to his tent. Sky did the same.


	2. Skylark's Dragon Part 2

_The universe contained herein belongs to J.K. Rowling. The original characters and plot are mine, and my responsibility.  
No dragons were harmed in the crafting of this story._

Reviews feed the hungry dragons. And the dragon handlers. And the author.

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**Skylark's Dragon Part 2**

Four in the morning arrived with indecent haste. The sounds of people astir woke Sky from a deep sleep filled with nightmares of fire, people running, and fleeing dragons. She shook it off uneasily as she washed, tied back her hair, and donned her work clothes. She joined the others for a hasty breakfast, grabbed her broom, and followed the group into the air.

They flew in light formation, Daniel in the lead, followed by Charlie and Jamie side by side. Roberto flew alongside Sky on her left, and Henry on her right. Stewart brought up the rear. Roberto and Henry kept up a running commentary, pointing out landmarks, their comments shouted over the rush of wind in her ears, aided by Sonorus spells. It was a short flight, and they flew high above the three broody mares still sleeping over their eggs, heads tucked under wings, tails wrapped protectively around themselves and their nests. Daniel tested the air and waved them to land downwind of the dragons. They shrank their brooms and stuffed them in pockets, and made their quiet way toward the sleeping trio to count eggs, keeping an eye out for snakes and other egg-hungry predators, communicating with hand signals. Henry kept close to Sky. Though she knew he was there to prevent mistakes, keeping her and the others safe, she felt claustrophobic at his hovering. She had plenty of questions, but knew better than to voice them in the early morning stillness.

The rumbling of the sleeping dragons was apparent before they came into sight. The dragon handlers spread out, two to a nest, roughly ninety degrees from each other, then settled down behind rocks to wait. It did not take long. As the sun rose over the outcropping behind which the sleeping dragons lay, they woke, slowly uncurling tails and turning heads to touch noses to eggs and flicking tongues over them as if to count. Apparently reassured, one after the other, they stood, stretched their long necks to the sky, and trilled a warble. Sky thought she'd never heard anything so enchanting. The mare nearest her opened its leathery wings, slowly at first, then with a sharp snap like the sound of someone Disapparating. It bunched the muscles in its hind legs, and with a downward sweep of its wings, it leapt into the air, voicing a high-pitched, melodic _Caw!_

So beguiled was she that Henry had to tug on her arm to get her attention. "Come on – we don't have much time." The other two dragons had also taken to the air, the three off on a morning hunt. The dragon handlers scrambled to their nests, counting eggs and checking them over with flicks of their wands. Sky reached out a hand, only to have it slapped away. "Don't touch!" Henry ordered. "If they smell human on an egg, they'll abandon it!" Sky snatched her hand away, but looked longingly at the green and gold mottled eggs. The nest she, Henry and Roberto were inspecting held four of the beautiful eggs. They gave off a warmth in the cool of the early morning, and Sky thought she felt a thrumming vibration coming from them that resonated deep in her bones.

All too soon, for Sky's liking, they scrambled well away from the nests, Engorgio'd their brooms, and took off in the same light formation. Daniel led them away from the flight path the hunting dragons had taken, both for their safety and to avoid alarming the protective beasts.

Stewart peeled off to head for his Hebredians, after confirming coordinates for the new campsite. The rest returned to their tents, where they made fast work of packing and shrinking their belongings. Sky watched as they obliterated all traces of their stay with flicks of their wands. Then they mounted their brooms once more, heading out to the last-known location of the Portuguese Longsnouts.

Daniel took point again, and Henry and Roberto again flanked Sky. The mountain air was chill, even mid-morning, and their flight was significantly longer than the flight to check on the nests. By the time Daniel signaled their descent, Sky's ears were frozen and she was immensely glad for the tebo-hide gloves and robes that protected her from the worst of the wind. When they landed, she stumbled a bit, getting her legs under her, and Henry reached a hand to steady her. Roberto merely glanced at her with no judgment in his eyes, and nodded approvingly when she stood and pulled away from Henry's support. Sky looked up to see Charlie's narrowed eyes on her, and blushed in embarrassment. She peeled stiff fingers from her broom and hastened to help set up camp, her tent nestled between Roberto's and Henry's. Somehow, that felt protective. She tried not to look at Charlie, feeling some measure of… disapproval… in his manner.

They ate a quick lunch of stew and bread, washed down with pumpkin juice, during which Sky listened as Daniel pulled out a map, tapped it with his wand, and discussed the best search pattern for locating the Portuguese. The group would split completely, and Sky would be paired with Daniel this time, as he was most familiar with the terrain. They took off, Daniel flying nearly at her knee, pointing out landmarks. Sky noted his long, grey hair was not whipped by the wind as hers was, and, were it not for clinging to her broom, would have slapped her forehead. When Daniel signaled her to land, she muttered a reminder to herself and followed him.

"Dragon spore," he pointed out. He bent and touched it with a finger. "Cold, though. One, two days, I calculate. We're on the right track." He nodded in satisfaction, glanced at her and grinned. "How are you doing?"

She grinned back at the friendly query. "A bit… overwhelmed, actually," she acknowledged. "But I love it!" she hastened to add, throwing out her arms to encompass the earth and sky, spinning in a circle to take it all in. She inhaled deeply. "It's _glorious!´ _

Daniel laughed. "Well – don't let it go to your head – the mountains can be dangerous – in more than one way."

Sky sobered immediately. "I'll be careful."

He nodded, still smiling. "Careful or dead – those are the only two options."

Her smile faded a bit and she nodded. "_Careful_," she said emphatically.

"Come on, then – let's be the ones to find those dragons!" Daniel said with a twinkle.

Sky grinned again, and, remembering at the last minute, waved her wand to effect a version of the bubble-head charm that made her head impervious to the wind. More than that would be too hard to sustain in flight. Significantly more comfortable, she flew at Daniel's side. A mere half hour later, they landed again, though Sky could not tell what Daniel had seen to call them from the air. "Flutterbys," he said. The colorful fluttering of wings in the scrub brushes tight against the mountainside was obvious, once he'd pointed it out. "They're attracted to heat. Sure sign of dragons in these reaches. Everything else here is as cold as a freezing charm." He stepped closer to the brush and pointed out the steamy clumps of dragon spore. "They're nearby. Stick close."

Meanwhile, he pointed his wand in the air, and high above them, the spell broke open, sending out showers of green sparks, alerting the other dragon handlers that their charges had been found. Daniel signaled Sky they would wait, and they crouched down together, Daniel drawing a rough map in the dirt with the tip of his wand.

"Here's where we are. This territory is too jagged for the larger dragons, but the Portuguese Longsnout and the Welsh Green – the wee ones – are safe here from the larger, more aggressive types. Now, the crags can be dangerous to them, too. They get their wings caught, sometimes, and there are rock slides… Part of our job is to make sure they're safe, release any who are trapped, and see to any injuries. Graphorns live in the caves around here, too. You know what those are."

Sky nodded. Graphorns were dangerous, aggressive, goring their enemies and prey with their double golden horns, often the only way to spot them, as their purplish-grey hides blended with the mountains. Their skin was tougher than dragon-hide, repelling most spells, so flight and evasion were better weapons than attack, if confronted by one. They were, none-the-less, vulnerable to poachers, both for their hides and for their horns, antidotes to many poisons.

"Graphorns attack the smaller dragons, sometimes. Gore them something fierce. But mostly, look after your own hide. Lost my first partner to a graphorn."

Sky didn't know whether he meant his dragon handler partner or his life partner, and thought the issue too personal to ask. "I'm sorry," was all she said.

Daniel looked up with a sad smile. "Never get used to it – the danger. You get used to it, you get careless. You get careless, you're dead." Sky nodded again. She would learn a lot from this man.

One by one, the other dragon handlers arrived – save Stewart, of course. The five of them and Sky headed through the rocky terrain, staying meters above the timberline, as the Portuguese Longsnouts were likely to be in amongst the firs.

They heard them before they saw them, low humming sounds and sharp baritone calls as they communicated. Portuguese Longsnouts were diurnal, active, and quite busy, unlike some larger, more plodding beasts. They counted nineteen dragons over the course of the next few hours.

"Missing one," Charlie Weasley noted worriedly. He stepped back from the group of five they had located up against a cliff where it met the timberline, into clean air. Sky watched curiously as the dragon handler stood stock still, eyes closed, arms extended slightly away from his body, as if listening, or feeling the wind. The other dragon handlers watched in respectful silence, and Sky looked back and forth from them to Charlie, wondering what they were waiting for.

Finally, he inhaled. A look of pain crossed his face, and he opened his eyes. Without a word, he took off to his left, darting between and over boulders and rocks, and skidding down a loose pile of scree before his boots found purchase and halted his slide. The others chased after, and Sky found herself urged along by Daniel's hand at her elbow. Finally, Charlie came to a halt, a hand behind him to wave them to stillness, though no dragons were within sight.

Something keened along Sky's jaw, making it ache, but she was too focused on something urging her onward to register the pain of it. She slipped out of Daniel's restraining hold, until she was nearly on Charlie's heels. "He's hurt," she said. Charlie's nod seemed unconscious, unaware. They moved forward together.

Just past a large boulder, they saw it – a Portuguese Longsnout, tugging frantically at one wing, green ichor slicking the ground under its hind legs, talons scrabbling desperately for a hold in its slippery blood. Its wing was trapped between a large boulder and the mountainside. Fresh scree gave evidence it had been caught in a landslide. The beast was tearing at its wing with its teeth, desperate to escape, keening in agony, both at being pinned and at the injuries it was causing itself.

Sky's wand was in her hand before she knew it, but Charlie caught at her wrist, his strong fingers bruising in his hold. "No!" he said in a low, urgent tone. Sky could feel the pain in his voice. "If we levitate the boulder, he'll fly away somewhere – if he even can. He'll bleed to death… or his wings will collapse and he'll be dashed to death in a fall." He ran an agitated hand through his red hair, heedless of the murmuring of the other dragon handlers behind them. Roberto moved up behind them, eyeing the beast, which was clearly tiring of its battle for freedom. They tried to get closer, but the beast was too frantic, flailing dangerously.

"Spell it?" Henry asked.

"No – he'd die from the shock," Daniel advised. No matter how they pondered it, there seemed to be no way to help the suffering creature.

Finally, Roberto called it. "Nothing we can do, Charlie – one way or the other. Best put the poor thing out of its misery."

"No!" Charlie rasped, and Sky's heart nearly broke at the desperate sound. Roberto pulled Charlie back toward the others, nodding at Sky grimly. "Stay put," he said. She nodded.

But she did not stay put. Agony, fear and desperation pulled her forward yet again, and without thinking, she began to croon, picking her way, unseeing, past the broken bits of mountain that had rained down on the unfortunate dragon. The closer she came, the greater its injuries appeared, and she realized, without knowing how, that he'd been knocked unconscious, and that this was adding to the beast's confusion and fear. She crooned louder, thinking soothing thoughts in the beast's direction, and did not hear the muffled oaths at her back.

She was within arm's distance now, making contact with the whirling, multifaceted eyes of the dragon, clouded with pain. She felt a bit dizzy, as if the world had become more complex, suddenly – sight and sound and smell flooded her bizarrely, and she fought to maintain her hold on her awareness of herself, amidst the dragon's pain and fear.

"It's all right," she crooned. "It's okay. You're stuck, but we can help you. You're hurt, poor thing. Let me help. Let me make it better." She continued in a soft, soothing lullaby that thrummed deep in her throat, and one hand reached out to touch the beast, whose inner lids slid over its eyes at her touch. She moved closer, then, to the huge head, caressing the beast's eye ridges, soothing it, completely unaware of dragon handlers scooting closer with packets of styptic and vials of pain killing ointment and potion. The beast rumbled dazedly, its snout pushed into Sky's chest and her unstopping caress.

Sky was vaguely aware of wand movements and the quiet murmurs of dragon handlers conferring as they assessed and treated the beast's injuries. Someone murmured something about levitating the boulder that pinned the Longsnout's wing to the mountainside, but Sky just continued her lullaby and caresses, and neither she nor the beast seemed to notice.

"Come away, now. He's all right. Come away, now, girl," someone said, and Sky felt herself pulled backwards, away from the rumbling resonating in her chest, away from multi-hued, whirling eyes. She wanted to stay there, leaning against the dragon's warm side, lost in its eyes, in its mind. It hurt to be pulled away, like leaving behind a friend after a long visit. Someone pushed a mug of something hot into her hands and ordered her to drink. She lifted it to her lips automatically, then nearly spit at the bitter taste of a restorative. "Drink it," the voice insisted, and more out of habit of obedience than consent, she did.


	3. Skylark's Dragon Part 3

_The universe contained herein belongs to J.K. Rowling. The original characters and plot are mine, and my responsibility.  
No dragons were harmed in the crafting of this story._

Reviews feed the hungry dragons. And the dragon handlers. And the author.

* * *

**Skylark's Dragon Part 3  
**

"You could have been killed! You _bloody idiot!_" Jamie ranted. "_What_ _in_ _bloody hell_ do you think you were doing, walking up to an injured dragon that way?"

"Jamie," Roberto said in admonishment.

"_No!_ What she did – it was beyond stupid! _Way_ beyond stupid – _suicidal!_ You could have gotten yourself killed!" he yelled, turning back to Sky. "Hell, you could have gotten _Charlie_ killed – or _any_ of us, trying to rescue you!"

Sky sat stunned, bewildered, still disoriented and utterly, utterly appalled. What had she done? Where _in bloody hell _had that come from? Her eyes flicked to find Charlie Weasley across the tent, carefully folding clean clothes into a trunk, studiously avoiding looking at anything or anyone else.

"Look," Jamie continued, "you can't go around saving dragons at the cost of _our lives!_ You've got to get your priorities straight! _Safety first_, damn it!"

Roberto put out a hand. "That's enough, Jamie," he said with quiet authority. "You've made your point."

Jamie threw up his hands in disgust, glared around at all of them, and stomped from the tent. Sky did not know where to look, so she kept her eyes on her hands, twisted together in equal parts misery and anger. No one was hurt! And a dragon's life was saved! Didn't that count for something?

The rest of the dragon handlers left her alone, keeping themselves busy cleaning equipment and organizing potions and supplies. Charlie eventually moved to the kitchen, and began preparing dinner for them all. It was his turn to host.

_It doesn't matter,_ Sky realized eventually. _It doesn't matter that it came out well. I could have gotten killed._ She twitched a shoulder. She didn't really believe that. It hadn't _felt _that way – not at all. But – she shifted uncomfortably – she could have gotten _Charlie_ killed… or any of the others, if they had decided she needed rescuing. _They _weren't in the mind-bond she'd felt with the dragon, and if he had decided they were the enemy… Sky's breath caught at the possibility that the dragon might have taken offense at their presence and decided to defend not only itself, but her, as well.

_Holy Merlin – what was I thinking?_ she thought, and lowered her head to shaking hands.

How long she sat there, she did not know, but someone nudged her knee and a white bowl of steaming soup, accompanied by thick, warm bread, was handed to her. She dared look up. Charlie Weasley nudged her again, motioning with his head, and she slid over on the bench. Her companion looked up at the others. No one was looking at them. Charlie climbed over the bench and sat next to her, his thigh warm against her own, and his well-muscled arms bumping her elbow as he tore bread into bite-sized pieces that he dipped into the soup. Sky waited for him to say something scathing, but all he did was eat silently, his attention on his bowl and the activities of the others. Eventually, she relaxed enough to begin to eat.

c

Sky packed, unpacked, and repacked her belongings, and rearranged things in her tent, unable to settle, a self-remonstrating dialogue playing continuously in her head. How _could_ she have been so _stupid_? She could have gotten everyone killed… or injured, at least! It did not occur to her to worry about her own safety – it barely mattered. But… to have endangered others… in such an unthinking, unaware,_ Gryffindor _way… _Merlin!_ She should just pack up and leave now, before anyone died of her stupid, impulsive, _reckless_ mistakes. She'd go back to…

Her stomach clenched. She could not – _would _not – go home, back to her father and brother and the Malfoys… to do what? Be her father's political lackey? She laughed bitterly. Well – she was safe from _that, _at least. A failed apprenticeship could not, in any way, be twisted to advantage within the Ministry.

Uncertain and heartsick, as well as nauseas with her reflections, she finally allowed her restless feet to take her to the entrance of her tent. She would _not _wander from camp… to be gored by some graphorn or fall from some cliff in the dark, for her… _betters _… to find on the morrow. She firmly anchored herself to the threshold, doused the light at her back with a whispered, "Nox," and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dark.

The clear, thin, cold mountain air, so different from London, or even from the less light-polluted skies over Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, allowed the starlight through practically unfiltered. The sky looked strange – so filled with stars it almost appeared cloudy, but Sky knew she was staring into the center of the Milky Way, and that the patterns of light and shadow were galaxies, nebulae, vast and seemingly both near and far. The sky was so crowded, so populous, it was hard to orient herself, until she found Polaris, and from there, Cassiopeia, Orion, and Pegasus.

A slight movement caught her eye, and the shadow of one of the dragon handlers moved against the sky. It was Charlie Weasley again, she realized, already encoding the size and shape of each of the dragon handlers, memorizing them. Once again, his stance was taut with what she could have sworn was… fear. "Point me," she whispered, but knew, even without looking, that his gaze was fixed on home, hundreds of miles to the west.

! What was happening there? Last year had been so… chaotic – at least at the end. She snorted soundlessly as she realized she was still on Hogwarts' calendar, and that "the end of the year" meant June, when students would be finishing OWLs and NEWTs, wrapping up projects, and taking the Hogwarts Express back to King's Cross for the summer. _Life does not run on Hogwarts' calendar_, she tried to tell herself, but… _last _year did.

Last year… Last year, Albus Dumbledore died. Last year, Severus Snape, her Head of House, murdered the most beloved Headmaster of all time, if The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, could be believed. And somehow, Sky _did _believe him. Not because she believed Professor Snape capable of murder. She fended off that thought for a moment. But because she _believed_. She believed Potter. She believed him when he said He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back. She believed him when he hated the Malfoys – though that was easy enough. She believed him when he defended Hagrid. Hell, she would have joined Dumbledore's Army, had she stayed at school one more year. Fred and George had told her of the boy then…

He'd been a leader, skilled, shockingly competent in Defense Against the Dark Arts, willing to take risks, to stand up for what he believed – no – what he _knew_ – to be true, to be right. Fred and George would have followed him into battle himself, he was so filled with the fire of conviction, they said. And… honest. She had seen him in Hogsmeade one weekend, eating in the Three Broomsticks with his ever-present friends. His magical signature had been clear, clean, unsullied by any motive other than to _help_… and she believed in him.

_Snape._ Snape, however… Her eyes filled with tears thinking about it. Snape's energy had _also _been clear, pure, untainted by evil – she could have sworn it. Despite the other Houses' derogatory nicknames for the man, despite his snide, demanding criticisms when someone was careless – she twitched at that – or inattentive… Damn! The man was… brilliant, exacting, infuriating… but he _cared. _Even in his interactions with Potter, he was _passionate_… and… Sky would have bet her future that he had been _good._ She had seen his interactions with her father and his cronies. He was a damned good actor, she had thought, but he had pulled in his energy when he was with them as if it made him ill to be too close, and his eyes had always been calculating… and she had seen flashes of… disapproval, disgust, dismay… _concern_… when her father had prattled on about the Dark Lord's lofty aims.

"I am not my father," she had said to him on encountering him in the corridor leading to the Slytherin common room after one such meeting.

"I am aware of that, Miss Dessirei," the professor had said, and though his eyes narrowed at her, there was approval there, too. He had held up a hand to forestall her confession of her hatred for the Dark Lord, and had said, "Caution, Miss Dessirei. Even the walls have ears."

She could have _sworn _he was good.

But Potter had sworn that it was Snape who sent Dumbledore off the Astronomy Tower, a mere two months ago… and… the world changed, became utterly incomprehensible. The entire wizarding world was terrified – as they should be.

_Hopeless_. She could not make sense of it. She could not _do _anything about it. She tried not to feel cowardly for having… fled… to Romania… Her thoughts headed to the inevitable conclusion that even here, at the top of the mountains, even here was not safe, if that madman won.

Sky stirred and pulled her cloak around herself more tightly, her heart aching and her uncertainty overwhelming her. She _wanted _Snape to be good. She _wanted _The Boy Who Lived to know what he was doing. She _wanted _Dumbledore alive and in his office at Hogwarts, overseeing young witches and wizards, heading the Wizengamot, and advising the Ministry of Magic… making sure all was right with the world. _Childish_, she told herself. _Grow up._ Frightened at her thoughts, she turned away from the dragon handler, crouched down in his own misery, staring off toward home.

c

They did not throw her out. She murmured a careful apology at breakfast, at which the others merely nodded. The plan for today was that they would split into two groups. Daniel and Roberto would return to the nests, to protect the soon-to-be-born dragonets from predators in their earliest hours, while Jamie, Henry, Charlie and Sky would overfly the remainder of the Reserve, completing headcounts and well-being checks on the rest of their charges. In two days, Charlie would leave for home, to attend his older brother's wedding. He'd return four days later, after a visit with his family, bringing back critical supplies. They were in imminent need of chili powder, essential for treating scale rot, which was a more common ailment in the dampness of fall and spring. Sky, Jamie and Henry would continue their survey for ten days after Charlie left, returning to base camp near the newborn dragonets in mid-August.

The three dragon handlers and Sky took off for the northern edge of the reserve as soon as they were packed. Charlie took point; Henry flew alongside Sky, and Jamie brought up the rear. Sky noticed that Henry kept watching Charlie, a concerned frown on his face. She studied the wizard's back, catching the tension that remained there. _Did the man never relax?_ she wondered.

c

Charlie sat next to her at dinner that night – and nearly every meal thereafter. He rarely spoke to her directly. Sky had the feeling he was watching her, assessing her. It made her uncomfortable, especially when she would look up, certain he'd been eyeing her, only to find his eyes on his food, or Jamie, or Henry, or even the wall of whatever tent they were using that night for dinner and planning.

Twice more in the next few days, the others stood silent while Charlie tested… whatever it was he quested out for. The third time, Sky felt something brush against her mind, and she turned toward it at the same moment Charlie did, earning her a considering look from Jamie. They headed off, without hurrying, as there was nothing in that brush that sparked the urgency Sky now realized she'd felt at the touch of the Portuguese Longsnout, three days earlier.

When they found the missing female Swedish Shortsnout, there were gasps of surprise; it had a partner, necks and tails twined around each other, and contented warbling came from their throats. The dragon handlers spent the better part of an hour admiring the silvery-blue male, taking notes on its color, size, and markings. Jaime turned to Sky with a grin and said, "Your turn."

"What?"

"Your first new dragon – you get to name him!" he explained. She looked at Henry, who nodded at her with a wide smile, and at Charlie, who, as always, considered her with that same appraising look. Why did she always feel like she was mid-NEWT exam with him? This was a test of some kind, she realized. Without thought, she reached out to the Shortsnout, smiling at the increase in the volume of its warbling at the touch of her in its mind.

"Garth," she said after a moment, one hand reaching out toward the dragon, and its warble turned to a full bugle as it stretched its neck to the sky. "Protector." Someone touched Sky's elbow, and she turned to find the other three looking at her, Henry and Jaime grinning, and something between astonishment and respect on Charlie's face.

"Only seen _that_ with one handler before, right Charlie?" Jaime said, clapping the redhead on his shoulder. Henry nodded vigorous agreement.

"What?" Sky asked, confused.

Jaime laughed. "Dragons don't usually respond when you name them. Well – they do when Charlie-boy names them, but not the rest of us."

"Why?" Sky asked, turning to… what felt like _her _dragon.

"Why not? Or why only when Charlie names 'em?"

She thought on that a moment, looked at Charlie and asked, "Why do they respond when you name them?"

He shrugged, but Jamie eagerly went on. "Charlie has an empathic connection with the dragons." Charlie pulled uncomfortably at his robe at that and turned to consider the dragon rather than face them as they talked.

"That's why he can find them," Sky said. Charlie twitched a shoulder in irritation. "I'm sorry," she said immediately. "We're talking about you behind your back – literally…. So… but… that _is _why you can find them, isn't it? You _feel_ them – like I do."

Jaime and Henry froze, and Charlie slowly turned to face her. "I beg your pardon?" he said, and just for a moment, her old Head of House was superimposed on the decidedly shorter, stockier, more athletic frame of the dragon handler. She nearly giggled. "That's what you're looking for – when you search for them. Like a…" She raised a hand to her temple. "… a brush against your mind – right?"

Charlie stared at her, then slowly nodded his head – more as if confirming something to himself than in agreement, though there was that, too.

"Did I say something wrong?" she asked, at the looks of shock on the other dragon handlers' faces.

"I thought Charlie was the only one," Jamie murmured, and Henry made a sound of agreement.

"One what?"

Jamie opened his mouth to answer, but Charlie cut him off with a hard chop of his hand, and Jamie actually took a step back. "Someone who can feel dragons like that," Charlie said. Sky got the decided impression that something was being left unsaid.

Charlie was to leave the next day. Though he had clearly been looking forward to it before, and in fact had seemed increasingly anxious as time for his departure drew near, he now seemed almost as intent _not _to leave. Clearly he was torn about something. After dinner, he pulled Jamie and Henry off to the side, talking in an urgent tone, with emphatic hand gestures. Henry turned his eyes toward Sky, but Charlie grabbed his shoulder to regain his attention. Whatever had the dragon handler upset, it was none of her business, Sky thought. He had known Jaime and Henry for years, and it was certainly his choice who he confided in. Nonetheless, she could not help feeling a little left out. She busied herself cleaning up after their meal, trying to pretend it did not matter.

He was gone before dawn the next morning. It would take a series of apparitions for him to get home, between which he would eat to replenish his energy, and fly a bit on his broom, whenever he was far enough from Muggle cities or towns.

Jamie, Sky and Henry broke camp after breakfast, which seemed not quite lonely, but certainly emptier, without Charlie or the others present. A brown Ural owl arrived with a note tied to its leg, informing them of the birth of healthy dragonets, though Roberto and Daniel had indeed had to fend off predators. Roberto had sprained his ankle in the fray, but was recovering well – not to worry. They sent the bird back with a report, which Henry and Jamie let her read, though Sky saw Henry append something, which she assumed was an evaluation of her performance so far, or confirmation that Charlie had left for home.


	4. Skylark's Dragon Part 4

_The universe contained herein belongs to J.K. Rowling. The original characters and plot are mine, and my responsibility.  
No dragons were harmed in the crafting of this story._

Reviews feed the hungry dragons. And the dragon handlers. And the author. 

* * *

**Skylark's Dragon Part 4**

Six days and three owls later, earlier than expected, the three returned to base camp. The world had changed again, in terrifying ways, though all that the owl's note had said was that the Ministry had fallen and that they should head back immediately. They returned to a pale, agitated Charlie, and after the preliminaries, settled down to hear his report.

The Ministry had been infiltrated by You-Know-Who's minions. Harry Potter had been escorted from his relatives' home to a safe house by no fewer than thirteen members of the Order of the Phoenix. They'd been betrayed, attacked, surrounded. In the ensuing battle, Mad-Eye Moody – _How could this be?_ – had lost his life.

"George…" Charlie's voice cracked. "George lost an ear." He pointedly did _not _look in Sky's direction. "It was Snape," he said flatly.

Sky's heart sank. Her stomach clenched painfully, and tears she had barely been holding off sprang to her eyes. She had to force herself to pay attention.

"Potter?" Roberto asked the question they all dreaded.

"He made it… he made it to…" Charlie's voice cracked again. "… to the Burrow."

Sky looked confused at that, and Jamie leaned over and whispered, "His family's home."

Charlie went on. "The Minister broke into Harry's birthday party."

"What?!"

"What in bloody hell…?"

"Dumbledore left them things in his will – Harry and… his friends." A couple of voices had questions about this, but Charlie waved the inquiry off. "The next day was Bill's wedding…" A brief smile flitted across his face but faded so rapidly that Sky wasn't sure she had seen it.

"Death Eaters broke through our protections half way through the reception. The Ministry… has fallen… to _him_."

"Oh my god!" someone said into the shocked silence.

Stunned faces turned to each other and then back to Charlie. "Is everyone all right?" Sky gasped out. Charlie spared her a glance as the rest waited, not breathing. "_Oh, please_," Sky begged, unaware that she had whispered it aloud.

Charlie ran shaking hands through his hair. "Yes," he croaked. "At least –" and he could not hide his anxiety. "We fought them off, but… Ron…" He inhaled and started again. "Ron and Harry and Hermione Granger… Apparated away." The others waited – he wasn't done yet. "We haven't heard from them since."

"Oh my god!" several voices said in unison. Someone swore.

"Charlie, lad…" Daniel's voice broke into the stunned, frightened silence. "Where is your family now?"

"Still home… figuring out what to do. They were questioned – we all were. Harry was in disguise, so only the family knew he was there. They wanted to know where Ron…" Charlie paused to swallow. "…where Ron was, but Dad just said Ron must have panicked, grabbed his girlfriend, and Disapparated. The Order… the Order needs Dad and Bill to keep working. It gives us _some _access to what's going on in the Ministry – for all the good that will do us. And Bill gets on with the goblins, so if they start to be subverted, either he'll be able to influence them in the other direction, or at least let us know they've gone over."

"What about Percy? I thought he works in the Minister's office?"

Charlie's face turned to stone. "Percy is no longer my brother," he said in a voice that left no room for discussion.

The group sat in silence for a long while, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Finally, small discussions broke out and they began to consider whether they should abandon the reserve to join the fight, bring refugees to the reserve for safety, or take some other action. They turned repeatedly to Roberto, Daniel and Charlie for decisions and guidance. "No," Charlie insisted. "We can't leave the dragons. It's too dangerous for them _and _for the Muggles if they're not watched and contained."

"If any of you feel the need to go," Roberto said, looking at Stewart, Jamie, Sky, and Charlie, "whether to fight or to protect your loved ones, I'll not fault you. But if you can stay…"

"We can't house refugees, much as we might like to," Daniel said, and the others reluctantly, mutely agreed. "Buncha' witches, wizards – and kids, likely… the dragons'd go mad… eat some of 'em, likely."

They talked for hours, careful, quiet voices masking desperation and fear for themselves, for friends and family… for the future. Charlie adamantly refused to look in Sky's direction, and she could practically hear his thought – _Slytherin _– like an epithet, an accusation. Theothers were tense with her. No one sat with her when they finally stirred themselves to eat supper. She had never felt her Slytherin origins so acutely, so uncomfortably.

Finally, having decided on nothing more than that they would stay, they retired to their own tents, mouthing useless words of hope and encouragement, patting Charlie on the shoulder. Sky did not dare.

As soon as she was alone, she gave in to sobs that tore from her chest and left her shaking and shaken. "It can't be," she kept thinking. "It can't be." The evidence of Snape's perfidy, his betrayal of the Order, was irrefutable, despite the insistence of her mind and heart. He could have _killed _Charlie's brother… He had _tried _to, she forced herself to acknowledge. She cried herself to sleep for the first of what would be many, many nights, wishing she'd been Sorted _anywhere _other than Slytherin.

...oooOOOooo...

Some days later – Sky had lost count in her numbness after the terrifying news – a silver, ephemeral weasel broke into their breakfast tent, sending everyone scattering with oaths and shouts of alarm. Charlie waved them to silence. "All is well. They have been found. Stay where you are."

"_What _was _that_?" Henry gasped when the silver animal faded into the air.

"Patronus… my father's Patronus," Charlie said, sinking back to his chair, weak with relief.

Even Daniel gasped at that. "But… it _talks_!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah… Dumbledore taught the Order the spell."

"I can't even _make _a Patronus!" Jamie said, while Henry shook his head. "I never even _heard _of such a thing! Bloody useful, that." While the others teased him about adopting British slang, Henry pressed Charlie. "Can _you_ do that, mate?"

Charlie nodded.

"Make it talk, too?"

A second nod. Henry looked at the rest of the group in awe. "Merlin! Can _all _of you conjure a Patronus?"

"Hands!" Roberto ordered.

Charlie raised his, as did Sky. They were the only two. Charlie turned to Sky suspiciously. "How did you learn?" he demanded.

"Potter taught the DA…"

"You graduated before he did that."

"I know, but…"

He lunged to his feet, crossed the tent to her side in three swift steps, and grabbed her elbow so tightly that she let out an involuntary yelp of pain. "What did you do – _spy_?" he spat.

"Charlie –" Roberto said, warningly.

"No! No!" Sky protested. "A few of us heard, and we asked the older – _his _older students – _your brothers _– to teach us some things. Granger met us in the Hog's Head… Oliver Wood, me, and… and two others… made us sign a paper… We _swore _we'd never tell, never betray them!"

"Someone _did _betray them!" Charlie said harshly. "Was it you?"

"No! I swear!"

"Charlie," Roberto said again. "Let her go, man. The fact she wears green doesn't make her a snake. She'll be a Dragon Master, damn it! How much more proof do you need?"

"I… I… What?" Sky said. Surely she hadn't heard correctly.

Charlie dropped her arm, but continued to stare at her, barely disguised hatred and distrust distorting his face. "Even dragons can be wrong," he said, glaring at her.

"Have you ever known them to be?" Daniel asked gently.

It got through. _Something _got through, because Charlie's hard, accusing look changed to one of uncertainty and confusion. "I. Don't. Trust. You," he finally said through clenched teeth, daring Sky to respond.

_Well… that much was clear._

And Stewart clearly agreed, stomping out of the tent with Charlie after throwing a hard look at Sky, standing, stunned, in the middle of Daniel's tent. She looked around. Henry looked confused; Jamie shrugged uncomfortably; Roberto's face was carefully neutral, professional; but Daniel clapped her on the shoulder and said, "Come on, lass. Let's have some tea before we break camp."

...oooOOOooo...

She didn't get it. Charlie obviously distrusted and disliked her, yet he insisted on being with her group, or even partnering with her, on every task. Confusingly, Roberto allowed it, and the others accepted it without question, automatically shifting positions so that Charlie and Sky worked next to each other, or in tandem. Charlie moved his tent next to hers, shouldering Roberto aside, and the head dragon handler did not even protest, merely moving his tent to occupy Charlie's typical spot in their layout. It must have been his distrust, she thought, that kept Charlie at her side or hovering at her shoulder. It made her shaky, uncertain, and kept her on the verge of tears, so that her every move was affected by her taut awareness that she was being _watched._ Each time her anxiety broke her concentration or made her hesitate or falter, Charlie would shake his head in disapproval.

Weeks passed, filled with mind-numbing, finger-freezing, exhausting tasks. Treat scale rot. Fight off predators around the dragonets. Monitor their growth and health. Find strays. Separate two dragons intent on tearing each other's throats out. Treat injuries. Endless counting, endless dodging of flames from fear-agitated dragons, endless cold and thin air and gripping her broom with thighs that first burned, then ached, then grew strong from flying and scrambling over the treacherous terrain.

Nighttimes, Sky slipped to the flap of her tent to find Charlie gazing into the distance, sometimes accompanied by one of the others, sometimes more than one of them, looking off in the same direction. She did not need a Point Me spell to know – they looked to home, wondering, worrying, afraid… afraid to hope. The days blended and blurred, and Sky fell into her bed exhausted, crying, sure she was failing to pass muster under Charlie's critical, harsh gaze. He never let up, never gave an inch, never murmured a word of encouragement or approval, though all of the others did, save Stewart.

The second week of September, their patrols took them near a wizarding village near the north-eastern edge of the reserve, and they slipped down the snowy slope to spend a blissful night in an inn, bolstered by hot butterbeer, fire whiskey, and someone else's cooking, for a change. Roberto and the others set out into town the next morning, leaving Sky to breakfast with a silent Charlie – her "keeper" as she had begun to think of him. She wished she knew how to change it, change Charlie's opinion of her, make him trust her.

"Can I ask a question?" she said after a long silent spell, broken only by the innkeeper clearing their dishes and pouring fresh tea.

Charlie frowned at her without speaking. Sky took that to be as much assent as she was likely to get, and continued.

"What's a Dragon Master?"

At first, it looked like Charlie was going to refuse to answer, but then his face became thoughtful, as if he was seriously considering her question. "Every once in a while," he said, idly swirling the tea in his cup to dissolve the honey that had sunk to the bottom, "someone comes along who can…" He waved a hand vaguely. "… _feel_ the dragons." His eyes flicked to hers. "Communicate with them, on some level… empathize with them so fully that they…" He waved a hand again. "… _bond_… for all intents and purposes." He said the last quietly, as if testing the idea against his own experience.

"_You're_ a Dragon Master!" Sky said in hushed realization. He stiffened in his chair. "That's why you can find them. That's why they react when you name them. That's why they're calm around you."

He hesitated, and gave a barely perceptible nod, not meeting her eyes.

"Why do you hide that?" she asked. "Why does it make you uncomfortable? I think it's _wonderful_!"

He looked up at that. "You won't."

"Why? What do you mean?"

He ran a finger around the lip of his cup, making it ring dully, thinking. "Dragon Masters… tend not to get married."

"Why not?" Sky frowned, trying to make sense of that.

Charlie drained the last of his tea, and stood in one swift motion, pushing back his chair roughly. "Figure it out," he said, and walked away, leaving her utterly confused.

...oooOOOooo...

The others returned from town bearing fresh fruits and vegetables, as well as other necessities. No dragon-related supplies were to be found, unsurprisingly, but they replenished their stores of potions and poultices for human injuries. Henry had picked up a radio, charmed to detect signal even through the dense energy signature of magic. "It'll work better in camp than in town," he said, when he was unable to make it work in the crowded inn. "Less interference." They headed back out, following a path indicated by one of the townsfolk, who reported espying Chinese Fireballs west by northwest of town.

It did not take long to find them – the red of their scales stood out starkly against the snow. The dragon handlers landed downwind, and the heady, hot, cinnamon scent of the beasts rolled over them at once. Daniel reminded them to be careful – these were profoundly dangerous beasts – and they moved forward, slipping from one outcropping to the next. Hand signals from Daniel and Stewart told when they had arrived. They poked cautious heads above and around boulders, crowding back down to compare observations.

"Seven," Stewart reported, and they all agreed.

"That's all of them," Charlie confirmed. He "listened" a moment in that way that was more internal than external. Sky inhaled, exhaled softly, and closed her eyes, questing outward. Dragon thoughts filled her mind – sated bellies, pleasant coolness, a bit of sensual satisfaction… no alarm or pain or aggression. She opened her eyes to find Charlie waiting for her, and the others watching them expectantly.

"Well?" he said.

"I think everything's okay."

"You _think_? Could you be a bit more specific?"

"They're… satisfied. They're not hungry. They're comfortable and not feeling aggressive. They like the coolness of the snow, and…" She hesitated.

"Yes?" Charlie said, staring into her eyes, daring her.

"And… they've… recently mated. And liked it." She felt the warmth of a blush on her cheeks, but maintained the eye contact. She would _not _let him back her down!

Charlie's eyes glinted in amusement, and Roberto stifled a burst of laughter. Henry and Jamie wore matching grins. Stewart leered at her. Charlie held her gaze, some unspoken message passing between them.

_Figure it out._


	5. Skylark's Dragon Part 5

_The universe contained herein belongs to J.K. Rowling. The original characters and plot are mine, and my responsibility.  
No dragons were harmed in the crafting of this story._

Please feed the dragons. And the author. Reviews are tasty and crunchy and good with ketsup.

* * *

**Skylark's Dragon Part 5**

That night, they pitched camp a good hour from the Chinese Fireballs. It was Sky's turn to host, and the others lounged in her magically-enlarged tent as Henry fiddled with the radio. Finally, he gave a triumphant cry, and music filled the tent. Sky recognized Oliver Boyd and the Remembralls. Roberto and Stewart were conferring in a far corner. The others sat in chairs or at the table.

Dinner passed in conversation about the Fireballs, speculation about the young dragonets far to the south east, and plans for the next day, which were to observe the Fireballs for a while, then turn to check the northern boundary of the preserve for signs of poachers or stray dragons. As they settled into after-dinner drinks of hot butterbeer or tea, Roberto nodded to Stewart, and the man pulled from his robes _The Daily Prophet _and _The Quibbler._ Charlie picked up _The Quibbler_, staring at the front page and shaking his head.

"Xeno's going to get himself killed," he said.

"Who's Xeno?" Henry asked.

"Editor of _The Quibbler._ He's a neighbor of ours – of my parents. Bit of a nutbag. His daughter is a friend of… of Ron's."

"She's at school, then – his daughter?"

Charlie nodded.

"Your brother didn't go back, did he?"

"No."

Apparently, Severus Snape had been named Headmaster of Hogwarts – by the Ministry. But none of them trusted the Ministry anymore. The Dark Lord was the power behind the throne now, which meant – as hard as it was for Sky to contemplate – that Snape had been appointed Headmaster _by the Dark Lord._ Why? What possible advantage would that give the man, if the accusations that Snape had been – and still was – a Death Eater were true?

It was Potter, of course. If Potter had been so… _stupid _… as to return to Hogwarts come September first, and if Snape _was _a Death Eater… Snape would hand The Boy Who Lived right into the Dark Lord's grasp… and all would be lost. Her stomach still clenched in denial of that.

"I'm sure your brother's okay, mate," someone said.

"Yeah." Charlie straightened his shoulders and turned the paper to show the others. A picture of Harry Potter filled the entire page, under a large caption that read, "Support the Boy Who Lived!" Potter glared at them.

Sky wondered when the picture had been taken. Harry looked… determined, and something in her strengthened when she looked at him. She reached a hand out to stroke his face, and he stood still for it. Her heart clenched, and she murmured, "Oh, Harry – I hope you're okay." When she looked up, Charlie was staring at her, his face blank. She withdrew her hand. "Sorry – you were saying?"

Before Charlie could say anything, Roberto gave a startled oath. He'd started leafing through _The Prophet _from the back – a peculiar habit of his – and had just flipped to the front page. "Well I'll be a dragon's whore!" he said in wonder, and everyone turned to look at him. Jamie and Stewart gasped simultaneously.

"Bloody hell!" Daniel exclaimed.

Potter's face again filled the page, under a banner that read, "Undesirable #1 Breaks into the Ministry, Frees Muggleborns Accused of Stealing Magic".

"What the hell?!"

"Turn the damned page, Rob!"

He did so, and Stewart, standing at his shoulder, read the articles – there were three – aloud. The first was an interview with Delores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary and Head of the Muggleborn Registration Commission.

"The _what?_"

"Shh – go on, Stu."

Sky watched Charlie as they listened, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched. She knew he was thinking of his brother, who had last been seen apparating from Bill's wedding alongside Harry. If Harry had been caught…

Umbridge accused Harry of working with "thieves and scoundrels" who had "stolen the magic of honest witches and wizards, leaving them powerless squibs."

"What a load of dragon manure!" Roberto exclaimed, and the others nodded emphatic agreement, patting Henry – a Muggleborn – on the back.

"What in bloody hell is the Muggleborn Registration Commission?"

"Apparently, they're rounding up Muggleborns and forcing them through 'trials' to determine if they came by their magic honestly," Stewart said, still reading over Roberto's shoulder.

"Kangaroo court," Daniel growled, and the others made sounds of agreement.

The second article described the alleged "break-in". Harry and "two known associates" – Charlie's breath hitched and Sky held her own – had polyjuiced themselves, imitating Ministry officials. Charlie groaned. It wasn't completely clear what they were doing there, as they had apparently searched Umbridge's office, stealing some kind of device from her door. An accompanying photo showed a round, vacant hole under Umbridge's name plate. Then they had, for some reason, made their way to the courts on the tenth level, attacked Umbridge and Yaxley, and led an escape of more than twenty persons awaiting trial – among them, one Mary Cattermole – all of whom were now considered guilty of the charges and fugitives from justice. Potter and friends were now accused of breaking and entering, impersonation of Ministry personnel, assault on Ministry personnel, theft, endangering public safety, misuse of the floo network, aiding and abetting criminals, and conspiring to overthrow the Ministry.

Someone snorted at that last charge. "Right. A trio of seventeen year-olds can overthrow the Ministry. If that's true…"

"Shush – what's the rest, Stu?"

The third article was a history of Harry Potter's life, turning every event possible into something sinister and damning.

"Buncha Horntail dung, if you ask me," snarled Daniel. Again, they all agreed.

"They're alive – and they got away!" Sky said once Steward had finished reading, and felt a smile broaden her lips. Impulsively, she put a hand on Charlie's arm, and said, "Oh, Charlie! He's okay – your brother. He's okay… and they have a plan… they were there to _do _something – I _know _it! He's helping Harry… to bring You-Know-Who down!"

Charlie's hand had gone to Sky's hand on his arm at her first words, and he patted it unconsciously when she increased the pressure. At her last words, though, he turned haunted eyes to hers and then to the rest of the group.

"Bloody hell!" Stewart said into the silence. "Do you think he can do it?" No one could answer that.

_The Quibbler_ contained nothing of substance – only firm statements of support for _Harry Potter, The Chosen One_, and an exhortation for "all who oppose You-Know-Who" to throw their active support behind Harry Potter, as well as to support each other.

"At least he makes sense," Henry murmured.

Jamie shook his head. "Yeah – but like Charlie said, gonna get himself killed."

They passed around the papers, examining every detail minutely, occasionally reading something out to each other, dissecting every nuance until, exhausted and up far later than usual, they bid each other goodnight. As he left for his own tent, the look on Charlie's face was an odd mixture of relief, pride, and affection, though there was still anxiety there.

The next day, three of them crouched side by side, Charlie still playing "keeper" on Sky's left, Jamie on her right. "I wish there was a safe way to contact my parents," he said to no one in particular. The one fact they had gleaned from _The Quibbler_ was that the floo network and owls were being watched.

"Use your Patronus?" Sky suggested. Charlie thought about that briefly, but shook his head. "No. I don't know where they are – any of them. If my Patronus showed up in the middle of the Ministry, or while Mum is in the middle of Diagon Alley, anyone could hear it. Best saved for emergencies. Besides," he laughed, "I can just hear the Howler I'd get from Mum if it embarrassed her or caught Dad in the middle of some meeting."

Sky smiled at that, remembering a Howler Charlie's brother Ron had received from their mother, his second year, the first week of school. Charlie laughed when she described it. "Yeah – that would have been for stealing and losing my Dad's Ford Anglia." When Sky looked at him in inquiry, he added. "Flying car." She shook her head and frowned, but laughed nonetheless. The look Charlie threw her was almost… grateful. "We should find a way to get news more consistently," he said. "It's coming to a head – I feel it. And… Harry's out there somewhere… with my brother and his girlfriend."

"Oh – are they together?" Sky asked.

He laughed. "They will be, if he ever gets his head out of his arse and sees what's in front of him. Though… they did dance at Bill's wedding…"

"Maybe we should…" Sky hesitated.

"What?"

"I was just wondering if we could sort of rotate, and send one of us to that town – say, once a week, and just pick up the papers, see what we can find out."

"That's not a bad idea," Charlie said slowly. "I'll suggest it to Rob – hope you don't mind."

"No," she insisted. "Anything to help. We're kind of isolated here. The world could end and we'd never know." As soon as she said it, she regretted it. A shiver ran up her back and she found herself hoping to bloody _blazes _that there was no Seer in her blood.

Charlie noticed. "It'll be all right," he said. "I've got a good feeling about this." After a moment, he nodded to himself and said, "Harry will see us through. I know it."

"I hope so," Sky said in fervent prayer, and Jamie, on her other side, murmured agreement.

Roberto swiftly approved the suggestion, and they set up a schedule. Apparating near the dragons was out of the question. The sound of it would echo off the cliffs, startling them, and the intensity of the magic Apparating required would set them off. They would determine where to set up for the night, and one of them would backtrack by a kilometer or so, and Apparate to town, returning with papers and news and fresh supplies. Everyone seemed in better spirits after the plan was decided upon, as if their worry and isolation would be alleviated.

...oooOOOooo...

Once a week, one of them would fly off, away from camp and the nearest dragons, Apparate to the edge of town, and bring back newspapers and supplies. For all of October and November, and into December, there was little information about the war on Voldemort – even in _The Quibbler_, though the latter continued to exhort people to support Harry Potter, and to aid him if possible.

Christmas approached, and Roberto ordered Charlie, Stewart, and Jamie home for the holiday, over their protests. "No," he insisted, "There's a war going on, and it affects you three directly. There's no word of it passing to the Americas, and New Zealand is the last place on the planet it would spread to." When he tried to order Sky to return with them, she turned pale, protesting in sharp alarm that had the others watching her in consternation.

"I can't," she said. "I won't!"

Roberto frowned at her. "Sky, as devoted as you are to the dragons – and I can see that you are - "

"No," she interrupted him. "It's not that. At least… It's my family. My father and brother are… they're in with… _that _group. He's not a Death Eater," she said as heads came up in alarm, "but he supports their goals. And… he'd use me to gain advantage with that lot. He's already tried," she finished on a mumble.

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked after several moments during which no one spoke.

"I'd… rather not…"

"That's fine! That's okay," he said immediately. "You don't have to tell us," and he put a hesitant hand on her shoulder in support.

She gave a half smile and said, "It's just that… Lucius Malfoy…" She stopped, turning embarrassed eyes away from Charlie's intense gaze.

"Say no more," Roberto said. "That man is as slimy a piece of work as I've ever had the displeasure to meet."

Sky gulped and nodded. "So if you don't mind… I'd rather stay here."

"That'll be the plan, then," Roberto affirmed, and she nodded in relief.

Charlie, Stewart and Jamie left the reserve on the 22nd for the long journey home, laden with letters to Henry, Roberto and Daniel's families, to send by owl once they were in London. They'd travel to England together, for safety's sake, and then split, with Stewart and Jamie heading north to Scotland and Wales. They'd be home by nightfall on the 23rd.

...oooOOOooo...

The camp felt emptier than ever to Sky, though Henry, Roberto and Daniel were good company. She realized that, as much as Charlie's hovering had irked her, she missed it, and she found herself, when they weren't traveling or attending the dragons, recalling the warmth of him against her back as they observed dragons from behind boulders, the warmth of his thigh against hers as they sat at meals, or the touch of his fingers on her wrist as he silently directed her attention. It occurred to her to wonder why Charlie had taken over from Henry in shadowing her, but she figured it likely she would rotate between the handlers to learn the range of skills they had between them. The thought should have settled her thinking, but it did not, and night times, she would stand at the entrance to her tent, not letting herself look for Charlie's silhouette to her right, gazing off toward home.

Whimsically, and without knowing why, she kept watch for him, whispering a protection spell she had read in a library book that had borne Snape's signature from years before, when he, too, had checked it out, his seventh year at Hogwarts. She searched her heart for feelings about the headmaster, which caused it to ache in loss and confusion. She could have _sworn_ he was good! And then she turned again to the fact that she missed Charlie – "and the others," she told herself, "especially Jamie," but she was starting to think that was a lie.

Day times, which were shorter now, they flew short hops, with warming charms on cloaks, gloves, hats, goggles, boots, and brooms, for all the good it did. It was still freezing work, which was why they stopped frequently, to warm their toes and fingers. They avoided the northern edge of the preserve, other than taking turns to nip into town to grab the papers and supplies. They would not check on the Chinese until March, and they had been fine in late October, when they last were in that area. Blizzards and icy conditions made flying simply too dangerous. Stewart's Hebredians would also winter without their aid. The Ukrainian Ironbellies would hole up in caves in the winter, and they need only check that landslides hadn't trapped them inside.

The Welsh Green and Portuguese Longsnout suffered the most in winter, being the smallest of those on the reserve, so they checked them frequently. One of the Welsh had gotten lost, probably during a snowstorm, and the other handlers looked to Sky expectantly. Initially, she panicked. _But if I don't find her, she'll die…_ she thought, and, as she had seen Charlie do, she moved slightly away from the group, and quested outward, disregarding the mind touch of the Greens nearby, searching for one lone thought. She began to feel rather cold and alone, with her eyes closed… and frightened, for some reason, somehow thinking that there must be a precipice nearby. She was afraid to move, that if she stepped back, she would fall.

And then she realized it was the _Green_ that felt that way, not her, and she sent soothing thoughts the Green's way – _Stay. We're coming. We'll help._ – and felt an anxious bugling in reply.

When she opened her eyes, the others were waiting, completely confident. She shook her head at that, but smiled reassuringly. "That way. She's afraid to move - thinks there is a precipice behind her."

Roberto nodded. Daniel humphed. They took off on brooms, following her lead, as she kept a light touch on the Green's mind. Five minutes flying and they found her, desperately maintaining her hold on the cliff side, a narrow ledge barely enough for her hind legs to find purchase. The snow against the mountainside made it impossible for the beast to get her bearings and estimate depth and distance, Sky realized. There was indeed a long drop behind her – enough to let her find her wings, if only she'd let go her frantic hold, and fall, rather than fly. The question was how to convince her. Sky tried talking her into it, but she was not to be convinced, though she certainly was calmer. "What are we going to do?" she asked, looking at Henry, hoping he'd have an answer.

"Your guess is as good as mine, maybe better," he replied, as lost for a solution as she was. They both turned to Daniel, who was pulling at his lip in thought, and Roberto, who was pacing the cliff looking for some path down to the frightened animal.

"There's no way down to her by climb," he said. "And if we did get to her, we can't exactly pry her talons loose of the rock – she'd claw anyone who tried."

"What if I…" Sky began, then stopped.

"What? What if you what, Sky? Out with it! No idea is too wild to be spoken aloud, girl," Daniel prompted.

Sky gulped. "Uh… what if… one of you… flies me in close so I can get to her. I think if I can _touch _her, I can convince her."

"That's a wild animal, Sky. A _frightened _wild animal!"

"She's not frightened of _me_," Sky insisted. "She's frightened of _falling._"

Minutes ticked by as they argued about it – minutes during which Sky could feel the animal about to give up in her exhaustion. "_Please,_" she said finally. "It will be okay – I swear it!" The others looked at each other, some kind of message passing between them. Then, Roberto bowed slightly in her direction. "As you wish," he said, something unspoken in his tone.

Henry flew her over the cliff to the dragon's side, as he was the quickest flyer of the other dragon handlers. Sky increased the strength of her mental connection with the beast, crooning softly to it as they approached. "It'll be okay. I'll help. It'll be all right," she murmured reassuringly. Daringly, Henry hovered near the Green's head, and Sky reached out a hand to caress it reassuringly. Before Henry knew what she was doing, she'd slipped from the broom to the Green's neck, sliding down to sit at its shoulders, just above its wing joints. Henry stifled an oath, not wanting to startle the beast, and backed up to give them room, and to prevent being caught in the backdraft of the beast's wingstroke, should Sky succeed in getting it to let go.

She patted the smooth neck, marveling in the touch. "You're beautiful," she crooned. "You're safe. Let me fly with you. Let's fly together, you and me – will you?"

The Green hummed deeply in its throat, and she could feel the rumble of it through her whole body. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the long neck, leaning her body into it, warmed by the contact. "Come on," she thought, picturing the wide, empty space behind them. "Let's fly!"

And… they did. The Green lost all thought of fear and falling, and pushed off the ledge. They fell but a moment before there was enough free space around them for the Green to stretch its wings and give a powerful down stroke. Henry yelled an oath that was part fear, part elation, and followed their flight, trailing far behind. The Green soared into the air above the cliffside, gliding in a rough circle over the dragon handlers, and sighted the rest of its kind. When it would have soared to join them, however, Sky sternly called it to order, and turned its mind toward _her _kind. Reluctantly, it followed her command and alit, meters away from Daniel and Roberto, as Henry continued to hover, just in case. Sky slid from the sleek neck, leaned against the warm green chest, and patted the dragon once, then stepped back and looked into its eyes, and bowed slightly. The beast dipped its head and blew hot air at her, causing her robes to billow out behind her. Then, bugling its freedom, it took off with a leap and a downward sweep of its wings. Sky watched until it was nearly lost to sight.

She turned to the rest of the group, expecting another tongue lashing for her recklessness. Instead, Daniel and Henry stood behind Roberto. "Dragon handler," he said with a nod as he handed Sky her broom. She took it, confused as much by that as by the tears that came to her eyes.

The rest of the two weeks passed without incident, though Daniel, Henry, and Roberto's attitude toward Sky changed in ways that were indefinable, accepting, respectful. She got used to it after a while of pondering it at night, her arms wrapped around herself, standing at the flap of her tent, wondering about Charlie, staring off toward home – though _home _had shifted slightly to mean wherever Charlie was, for some reason, and whatever the Burrow looked like.

...oooOOOooo...

Charlie, Jamie, and Stewart returned just after the new year began. Jamie and Stewart bubbled over with energy and high spirits. Charlie looked rested and somewhat relieved. They all settled down for an update on events in the wider world.

The papers the three had brought back with them were filled with "a load of nothing" as Daniel put it. Rob, Jamie, Stewart and Charlie poured over each edition. Sky got it after them, Henry and Daniel deferring to the Europeans, as theirs was the greater need for reassurance. Trivial stories of events at Hogwarts, rules passed by the Ministry, demands for Muggle-borns to turn themselves in "for registration", and insistence that all underage witches and wizards present themselves to Hogwarts for "Sorting" were thinly veiled threats that each of them knew for what they were – signs that _his_ hold on the Ministry was tightening daily. Each issue yielded some other trumped-up charge against Harry Potter and his "accomplices". Each issue warned that to aid them would result in a stay in Azkaban.

"I'd help them myself, Azkaban be damned," Roberto said one night, pacing in agitation. "And good on your brother, Charlie – sticking with his friends that way! Your family is made of stern stuff, you know? Best kind of wizards there are. If they're blood traitors, we _need _more blood traitors! Take them any day over Malfoy and his sort!"

Sky vehemently agreed. Charlie thanked them with a shaky grin that was more of a grimace, and Henry clapped him on the back in support. "Your family anything like you, Charlie, and they worth more than most wizards I know," he said, his eyes warm. Stewart agreed rapidly. Daniel just grunted.


	6. Skylark's Dragon Part 6

_The universe contained herein belongs to J.K. Rowling. The original characters and plot are mine, and my responsibility.  
No dragons were harmed in the crafting of this story._

Please feed the dragons. And the author. Reviews are tasty and crunchy and are good with ketsup.

* * *

**Skylark's Dragon Part 6**

In mid-January, they were patrolling the southwest corner of the reserve, checking on the Romanian Longhorns. The weather had been unusually cold, and snow had fallen steadily for two weeks, making the mountainside treacherous. They camped in caves when they could, for protection from possible landslides and avalanches, afraid to use charms to hold the snow in place around camp for fear of triggering a worse catastrophe. Overnight, there had been a loud _crack!_ and a rumble like an earthquake. Daniel, on watch, had woken Roberto, and their voices woke the others. The entrance to the cave was blocked by avalanche, but that was no problem – they would burn their way out in the morning, and there was plenty of air until then. What had them worried were the dragons, who would have taken shelter against the mountain in caves nearby. Theirs had been too small, and after checking for graphorns, they'd appropriated it for the night. Roberto sent them back to bed, and spent the rest of the night on watch with Stewart.

In the morning, they breakfasted, packed, and joined their wands to burn their way out. The sky had cleared, and they blinked in the sun. Charlie showed Sky how to darken her goggles to protect against snow blindness, and they took off through the thin, cold air, to check on their charges. Sixteen Longhorns had been counted in the days before the storm. They found twelve alive and apparently well. Three keened over dead mates, bringing Sky to tears she did not bother to hide, though Daniel made her dry them, lest they freeze on her face. The other dragon handlers looked bleak.

"One's missing," Sky murmured, sideling up to Charlie. He nodded, and together they closed their eyes, questing outward as one. A cry of pain and fear tore from Sky's chest and before she was even aware of it, she, Charlie, Stewart and Rob were airborne, following the force of that connection.

It was hopeless. Sky knew it even before they alit. The dragon lay on its back, obviously broken, dashed against a sharp outcropping, half buried in snow colored in a sickly, yellow-green ichor.

"No!" she cried, and she moved to rush to the dragon. Only Charlie was quick enough to grab her back from the dragon's agonized thrashing, and that only because he had had the same impulse. "No!" she cried again, straining against Charlie's hold. She felt the beast dying, felt its life leaving like ichor flowing from its wounds, like spirit being sucked out by some crazed Dementor's kiss. She didn't even register Charlie slapping her face. The moment the dragon's mind winked out, she gave an anguished yell, and fainted.

"Come on, Sky – wake up! Come on. Come back," she heard someone call in her mind, and clung to it, sobbing. It drew her back… somewhere. Someone was tapping her cheeks. She came alert back in the cave, in someone else's tent – Charlie's, she recognized. A cool rag was on her forehead.

She tried to sit up, but Charlie's hand pressed her back against the pillows. Stewart came into view, looking worried, and handed a vial to Daniel, who held it up to the light to examine it before nodding. "Here," Daniel said, handing it to Charlie. "Have her drink this."

"What…?"

"It's a restorative. Just a restorative. Jamie, help me," Charlie said.

Jamie and Charlie lifted Sky to a sitting position, and Jamie slipped onto the bed behind her, to support her.

_Oh, Merlin! She was in Charlie's bed! What… the dragon! _She turned pale and Charlie uttered an oath and moved toward her. "No! Skylark Amber Dessirei, don't you _dare_ pass out!"

She forced her eyes open and clung to the sight of Charlie's face as if it could tether her to consciousness, and did not protest when he held the vial to her lips.

Five minutes later, she was allowed to sit up, chagrined to discover the entire group was crowded into Charlie's tent, around his bed, watching her with concerned faces. Charlie was as pale as she felt.

"I'm so sorry…" she began.

"Shush! There now, child, it's all right. We're just glad you're back with us, is all," Roberto said, coming into view from behind her.

"I'm not a child," she protested before she could censor herself.

"You are to me," he said, and looked around at the group. "You all are to me – just like my children," he said gruffly, and then, apparently having seen and said what he needed, he left the tent. One by one, the others did as well, except for Jamie and Charlie.

"I'm sorry," she said again. Jamie protested, but Charlie stood and stepped away. She heard water splashing and running for a while. When Charlie came back, his hairline was wet, and his face slightly less pale.

"Can you sit up?" he asked.

She nodded. "I think so. I'm fine – really."

"No, you are _not _fine!" he snapped, and she flinched.

"Charlie!" Jamie protested. The redhead groaned and scrubbed at his face with both hands, then ran them through his hair, obviously struggling to gain control.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Let's start again." Sky nodded warily, and he sighed. "Look, Sky… I'm sorry. Really. Forgive me?"

He looked so apologetic that she smiled slightly, and nodded. His face cleared of all but worry, and he pulled a chair next to the bed. "Do you remember what happened?"

She nodded. _The dragon… the dragon on the rock… green ichor staining the snow… the pain and fear in its mind… it's life fading… _Sky swallowed against the overwhelming need to cry, and nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears. That earned her an approving nod. Charlie's eyes never left her face, and Jamie's hand never left her shoulder.

"You were almost… we almost lost you," Charlie said, glancing at Jamie for support. Jamie nodded and tightened his hand on Sky's shoulder.

"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously. She _felt _fine… she didn't feel like she'd almost… "What do you mean?"

Charlie glanced at Jamie again. "You… were almost mind-lost."

"Mind lost. What's that?"

Charlie scrubbed fingers over his forehead. "If you… if you stay connected to a beast or a person when they die… when their mind flicks out… yours tries to follow… and as they don't come back…"

Sky frowned at him, slowly shaking her head. _What?_

Charlie leaned closer, forcing her to look at him, into strangely intense blue eyes. "It's important you understand this, Sky. _You can't follow_, do you understand?"

"I… I… No. I don't. I mean… I can see _why, _but… _how_…?"

He was silent a moment, then, "I'll teach you," he said, finally, as if reluctant. "You have to learn how to block them. You can't stay open all the time. It's… dangerous. You can lose your sense of self if you… connect with dragons too long. You become more dragon than human." He looked like he knew what he was talking about. Part of Sky was beguiled by the idea – _to be a dragon… how amazing would that be?_ But the rational part of her said, _You wouldn't be a dragon, silly… you'd just think you were… and what use would you be then? You'd end up in St. Mungo's – permanently_.

She looked at Charlie and let him see that she _got _it. "Thank you," she said simply, and was immensely glad when Charlie nodded agreement. "When?"

"Not today. Today, you rest." He sent Jamie to Roberto's tent for dinner. While Jamie was gone, Charlie made himself and Sky tea, making sure she saw that he added nothing to hers that he didn't add to his own. He handed a mug to her, straddled his chair, and sipped, watching her. It did not make her uncomfortable, exactly, but she was acutely aware of sitting in his bed, under his covers, against his pillows… of the muscular, scarred arms crossed over the back of the chair… of the scent of him – musk and smoke and cinnamon and something indefinably _Charlie_. She felt herself blushing under the force of his gaze. Something flitted across his face, and his eyes were amused.

"So… this training…" she said finally.

He inhaled and smiled a bit. "Do you know what Legilimancy and Occlumency are?" She nodded. "Your connection… our connection with dragons is a bit like Legilimancy. Not exactly, of course. We don't need to cast a spell, for one thing, and the dragons can't ordinarily block us out. But _you_…" he said, jabbing a finger at her, "need to learn the equivalent of Occlumency – to protect your mind, to block a dragon's mind, to let it through a _little_, rather than all at once, so you can cut it off if you need to, like when they're in pain, or…"

"Dying."

"Yes."

"So, how do we do that?"

He shrugged. "Experimentally," he admitted. When she looked puzzled, he said, "Do you know how many dragon masters there are in the world right now?"

She shook her head.

"One," he said. "… and a half." A corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile.

"So – who taught you, then?" she asked.

He hesitated. "Snape," he said in a flat voice. He looked at her without really seeing her. After a few moments, he got up and moved to the kitchen area, leaving her alone and confused.

...oooOOOooo...

Their lessons started the next day. The rest of the group took off to continue their patrols, leaving Sky and Charlie in camp, saying they would return before dusk, which gave them six hours or so to work together. Sky woke in Charlie's bed, much to her chagrin, but Charlie shrugged off her apology, waving a tray laden with a hot breakfast over to her, insisting she eat before getting up. She wondered where he had slept, then noted a blanket thrown over a chair across the tent. They ate in silence, Sky increasingly uncomfortable, but Charlie would not let her up until she cleaned her plate. Then he ordered her to her tent to bathe and dress, telling her to be ready in a half hour. Sky scrambled to meet his deadline, happy to find herself five minutes early. He led her to the Swedish Shortsnouts.

"Find Garth," he ordered, when they had overflown part of the group and landed a safe distance away.

Sky looked at him blankly a moment, then closed her eyes. _Garth._ She remembered the touch of him, smiled as she recalled how he had bugled when she named him, pictured the proud stretch of his neck and the warmth of his breath. Wait – that wasn't memory… She felt it come from her left and turned in that direction before she even opened her eyes. When she would have set off, Charlie called her back.

"Hold on! Just _feel _him for a moment. Nod when you've touched his mind." She felt her way to Garth again and nodded. Charlie spoke into her ear, and his breath was as hot as Garth's in her mind.

"Tell me. Verbalize it."

She shook her head. How could she put words on it? The stretch of sinew, the grip of talons scraping on hard, sharp rock, the triumph of marking it, making it yield to her, making it her own turf…

It took minutes for her to become aware of sharp talons digging painfully into the joint of her wing, and though she tried to shake it off, some other dragon was digging in hard enough to draw ichor…

"_Sky! Damn it!_" Something stung as it slapped her muzzle. Again… and again. "_Sky!_"

"Wha… What? Stop hitting me!" She blocked the next blow before it fell, felt her cheek swell, tasted blood in her mouth. She opened her eyes to find a pale Charlie, panting, hand raised to land another blow, a look of panic, which quickly turned to relief, in the blue eyes.

"Merlin, Charlie… what did you…?" She stopped. "Oh." She got it. She'd gotten dragon-lost again. "Oh, gods…" she said, then spit blood out of her mouth, staining the snow. Charlie raised a hand to her face, looking upset.

"I'm sorry… you weren't… you weren't coming back," he said. "Let me…" and he murmured a healing spell that took away the pain, but left her skin still smarting, and her mouth still tasting of blood. Charlie's fingers burned trails down her cheek as he spoke the healing spell, and her eyes widened as she watched his face, so close to her own. She was hypnotized by his eyelashes, for some reason, and the faint dusting of freckles across his cheeks and nose. His eyes followed his fingertips, though, and his touch was gentle. He met her eyes, and abruptly, he dropped his hand and turned away from her.

"You need some tea," he said hoarsely, and grabbed his broom, kicked off, and headed back to their tents, leaving her to follow. He turned toward Roberto's tent when they landed. _Neutral turf,_ her mind catalogued automatically. She followed, her eyes captivated by the movements of his hips and the stretch of his shoulders as he preceded her. _Dragon_, she thought, then shook her head free of it, lest she find herself dragon-lost again. It took deliberate effort not to turn her mind to Garth, and that frightened her.

They sat at a table in Roberto's tent – headquarters, of a sort, if they had such a thing. _Neutral, _she thought again. _Wise of him._ She watched Charlie move about the tent as if he was used to being here – which, of course, he was. He moved differently from the other dragon handlers, she thought – or maybe that was her imagination. There was something almost… feral… cat-like… sinewy in his movement. She shook her head again. _What am I thinking? _He brought a kettle to boil and waved over two mugs, the pot of honey, and a small pitcher of milk. "Earl Grey," he said. "You need the lavender, and the valerian."

She nodded. Sipping the tea hurt at first, and she winced, unable to stifle a sound of pain, but he sprinkled into her cup a pinch of something that smelled of mint from a small vial he pulled from a pouch at his waist and said, "Try again." This time, a blessed numbness followed as she drank, soothing her mouth and reducing the swelling.

"Thank you," she said. They both knew she meant more than for the tea. Charlie nodded.

"I'm sorry," they both said at the same time. "What for?" Sky asked quickly, before Charlie could say anything. He looked down, then back up somewhat sheepishly. "We… _I _should never have had you start with Garth."

"Why?"

"You've already established a connection with him… and him with you. He'd probably let you in consciously, if he had the choice, and you already know his mind too well." He hesitated, and she took advantage of that to ask, "So why _did _you?"

He took a breath as if to answer, then, apparently, changed his mind. "I'm not sure," he said, finally, "but we have to do this differently… use a dragon you don't know."

"I'm ready to try again," she pronounced, pushing the cup of tea away from her.

He eyed her skeptically. "You sure of that?" When she nodded, a flash of approval showed in his eyes, and he stood, banishing their mugs and gesturing for her to precede him out of the tent.

They flew back to the west, until they found the Longhorns again. They set down, and Charlie turned to her, caution on his face. "Are you sure?" he asked again.

She wiped her hands on her robe, then nodded determinedly. "I'm sure. What do you want me to do?"

He hesitated a moment. "There's another way to do this… the way Snape taught me."

Sky studied his face, extreme reluctance evident there as well as in his voice. "Well – it worked with you, didn't it?"

He nodded, but just looked at her.

"Well?" she said, impatiently.

"It involves… letting me into your mind…"

"Oh." _Oh. Merlin! _But… what choice did she have, really? It was this, or be dragon-lost. Or… she would have to stop working with dragons, an option she rejected as unthinkable.

"All right," she said.

"You'll have to let me in…"

She nodded. "How do I do that?"

"All of us carry a natural shield. We're not usually aware of it, even when we're using it to, for example, lie to a professor or our parents without getting caught. You have to let go of that natural shield. You have to be willing to be caught."

"You did that with Snape?"

"Snape never frightened me," he said flatly.

Despite his assertion, Sky was impressed. Even though she had admired the man, the thought of letting Snape into her mind… If Charlie could do _that_, surely she could let Charlie in.

It wasn't as easy as simply _deciding_, of course. By the time they had been at it an hour, Sky was sweating with the effort to force her defenses to drop. Charlie was far less perturbed than she was by their – _her _– failure, though she could see he was slowly becoming frustrated.

"Could you just _pretend_ to trust me?" he asked with humor in his tone and glinting in his eyes.

She answered with a wry smile, rubbed her temples, and said, "Sorry."

"Ready?" he asked, and she nodded. "Legilimens," he murmured, and Sky felt the touch of his mind against hers, willed herself to let him in, to no avail. When she would have apologized again, he waved it off and shook his head. "I don't know what the problem is. You connect so easily with the dragons…"

"Yes, but then, _I'm_ connecting with _them_," she pointed out.

Charlie considered that. "We _could _do it the other way around," he said slowly. He pondered for a moment, then nodded. "Let's try it that way."

_Isn't he worried what I'll find? _Sky thought, and then realized that _that _was what was holding her back – the fear of what Charlie would find in her mind: her respect for Snape… her growing interest in _him_… She was afraid to let him see that. But _he _had nothing to hide from _her _because he had been open enough about his hatred of Snape and his distrust of her. _He_ had nothing to fear, whereas…

"How do I…?" she asked.

"Just the way you do with the dragons – except you know where I am," he said. "Make eye contact. It's easier."

She blushed, then controlled it, and murmured the spell, looking into his eyes, and found herself getting lost in them, reading the thoughts and images she found there. His mind was only filled with dragons, though she was aware that he was controlling what he would let her see – and she wondered how he did that. And then they were… flying. It was like flying a dragon… and Charlie's mind was winging them outward, in search of dragons… and finding them, chose one, and joined minds with it. When Sky would have blended her consciousness with that of the dragon, though, she felt Charlie hold her back, as if they stood at a distance from the dragon, even in its mind, _observing_ its thoughts rather than _thinking _them. "Just watch," she heard in Charlie's voice in her mind.

They _watched._ They _noted _the dragon's feelings and thoughts and impressions. They _observed _sinew and muscle and talon and snout. They _realized_ hot breath and vague tendrils of smoke rising from twin nostrils… but they kept their distance, not feeling it, not living it. And then Charlie drew them further back, gaining them greater distance still, more clinical observation than presence. And then finally, he drew them back fully, and nudged her gently from his mind.

It was strangely lonely to find herself alone in her mind. But almost immediately, she recognized the danger of that – that she would give into the urge to seek out those other minds to avoid being alone. _Gods, no wonder dragon handlers worked in groups! It was a wonder they weren't all…_

"Charlie," she said after a few moments of silence, "Why is there only one Dragon Master in the world?" But she knew the answer before he said it. _Dragon-lost_. The ones who could empathize to that degree, find themselves in the mind of the dragons they cared for… became dragon-lost. She wondered how Charlie escaped that fate. "Snape. It was Snape," she murmured aloud. Charlie nodded, looking away. Her heart and mind filled again with confusion and pain.

"He worked with me for nearly a month… on his own time… gave up his summer holiday without a word about compensation," Charlie said quietly. Though his face was still and empty, his eyes were confused and conflicted. After a few minutes, lost in thought, he said, "Time to get back. We'll try it again tomorrow."

They worked on it every day. Roberto left them in camp for the next three days, and then Charlie insisted they rejoin regular patrols, though whenever possible, he used those as training opportunities, too. They made a little progress, and Charlie kept telling Sky to be patient… to give herself time, but she continued to have difficulty letting Charlie in.


	7. Skylark's Dragon Part 7

_The universe contained herein belongs to J.K. Rowling. The original characters and plot are mine, and my responsibility.  
No dragons were harmed in the crafting of this story._

Please feed the hungry, hungry dragons. And the equally hungry author. Who has lately been taking her reviews with a bit of mulled hot cider and a pumpkin pastie. Try it. Quite yummy. *tosses a few to the dragons, who slurp them up eagerly, then demand more* Uh oh...

* * *

**Skylark's Dragon Part 7**

In late January, Stewart returned from a trip into town pale, shaking with cold, and nearly incoherent. Finally, they got out of him that Dementors had been in town, and that he had barely landed before the dread cold of it nearly overcame him. He'd barely had the strength or awareness to get back on his broom and fly away, keeping low so as to avoid being seen. Apparating had been out of the question – he simply hadn't had the strength.

"What were they there for, though?" Henry asked, voicing everyone's question.

"Vampires," Jamie said. "I'll bet he's trying to recruit the vampires." There was no need to clarify who _he _was.

"With Dementors?" Jamie asked skeptically.

"No," Roberto said. "He'd have sent his Death Eaters here, and the Dementors probably followed. They do his bidding now."

They sat in uneasy silence for a while before Roberto said, "We'll have to increase our patrols in that area… any area near towns… anyplace we know vampires to be living. If he's going for vampires, it might occur to him to use dragons."

"How?" Sky challenged.

"If in no other way, to frighten and intimidate, but there are ways to capture and control them – after all, the vaults in Gringott's are guarded by dragons."

"But they're _chained_. What'll he do with chained dragons?"

Roberto shrugged. "Who knows what he'll do… what powers he has by now?"

Unanimously, they agreed to patrol the northeast border and strengthen the wards there, then proceed to strengthen the wards around the entire reserve – this time, not only to keep the dragons in, but to keep intruders out – and set them to alert them to any breach coming _into _the reserve.

Their inability to safely contact anyone back home was increasingly worrying, though _The Prophet_ and _The Quibbler_ continued to be empty of any specific threat. Potterwatch, though, continued to report deaths, disappearances, and known movements of Death Eaters and Dementors, as well as to dispense practical advice, much of which was bloody obvious, in Sky's opinion, and attempts to boost morale.

February arrived with bitterly cold winds and blizzards that kept them mired in one place for days that blended into weeks, too dangerous to fly or Apparate – the latter of which could set off avalanches, the _crack_ of it echoing off the mountainsides. They could not even risk the flight to town, so huddled in tents, kept cozy by warming charms they renewed every morning and evening. Charlie continued to work with Sky on reaching out to dragons without becoming dragon-lost. Together, they kept track of the Romanian dragonets, facing their first winter, counting mind-touches as if they counted noses, reassured by the fact that the number remained the same, morning after morning, and by the strength and warmth they felt in each contact.

The third week of February, they woke to a brilliantly clear sky. After eating a hot and hasty breakfast, they packed and shrank the tents and set out to check their charges and the wards around the reserve. Stewart, Charlie, Sky and Henry headed to the northeast, where they could check the Chinese Fireballs, stop in town for news and fresh food, and head west along the northern edge, before rejoining the other three in two days. Before they left, Roberto reminded everyone of emergency signals and survival methods, in case the weather did not hold, or they ran into a situation with the dragons that either group could not manage alone.

They found the Chinese easily enough, surprisingly, and spent a half day assuring themselves the group was complete and well, then turned east toward town. It was eerily quiet, compared to their other visits, and Sky whispered to Charlie, "Do you think the Dementors are still here?"

Despite the clear affiliation with dragons their garb signified, and the fact that each of them had visited the town repeatedly in the past few months, the townspeople seemed to view them with suspicion and hostility, Sky thought. They conducted their business in silence, and narrowed their eyes suspiciously without responding when Sky and Stewart tried to make small talk or ask if anything was wrong. Sky thought she was just being paranoid, but Charlie gestured them curtly to cut their business short, and once out of town, nodded when Henry said, "That was weird!" It made them uncomfortable enough that they pushed further northwest than they had planned, simply to put distance between themselves and their discomfort.

Uneasy, they decided to check the Fireballs again. The next morning, they flew back to where they had seen the dragons, and landed to allow Charlie and Sky to catch the feel of them so they would know in what direction to take their search. When both Charlie and Sky faced back north and east, they exchanged puzzled looks.

"That'll take them back toward town," Stewart observed.

"North of there, I think," Charlie said, looking to Sky for confirmation. At her nod of agreement, they prepared to backtrack, bearing closer to the northern boundary. Charlie held up a hand before they kicked off. "Be careful," he said. "Something doesn't feel right about this."

Stewart and Henry nodded grim agreement, and Sky swallowed a sudden fear that caused her stomach to clench. Charlie was right: something was wrong.

...oooOOOooo...

If they could have used muffling charms, or disillusionment spells, or had invisibility cloaks, they might have taken a different approach. As it was, they reached the northeast corner of the reserve to find the wards breached and dismantled. They overflew the dragons, mere specks below them, then circled slightly lower, puzzled by the odd flashes of light in the dragons' vicinity, wondering why the dragons stayed, rather than fleeing whatever it was.

It was magic, they realized after a while, the cold flashes of it bouncing off the dragons' tough hides at times, hitting their marks – the dragons' softer underbellies – far too often. They watched from high above, and realized the dragons were being herded closer to the boundary of the reserve, outside of which, they would be beyond the dragon handlers' protection and aid. There was no doubt they had to put a stop to it, whatever was going on.

They pulled back and hung in the air, not wanting to even take the time to land in order to plan, and decided that Sky and Henry would draw off as many of the attacking wizards as they could, allowing themselves to be seen, and Apparating away if they were in danger of being caught or directly attacked, while Charlie and Stewart would try to stun or otherwise incapacitate whoever was left with the dragons. Charlie sent off the "help" signal, and the four of them exchanged grim looks. Disconcertingly, Charlie nodded at Henry, kept eye contact with Sky and said, "You're in charge, Sky. _Don't get mind-lost!_" Henry merely nodded and turned to Sky. "Ready when you are," he said.

It did not matter that she did not feel anywhere near ready to lead… anything. There was no choice, no time. A glance below showed spurts of fire dangerously near the border between Romania and Moldova, where the dragon handlers had no authority. If the Chinese Fireballs were to be kept safe – and out of Voldemort's hands – they had to act now.

"Come on," Sky said, and with a glance at the others, dove for the northernmost of the flashes of light.

So intent were the Death Eaters on the dragons – with good reason, given the fight the dragons were putting up – that Sky and Henry practically had to fly in front of their noses before they were detected. Sky dove between one Death Eater and the Chinese he and six others were attempting to contain, and the wizard gave a startled oath and fell back, tripping over a small boulder. The Fireball bellowed its challenge at Sky, thinking her some small dragon threatening its territory, and spouted a swath of flame fifty feet long. She felt it coming, though, and flew at an angle to the beast's snout, so that only the tips of her broom and the edge of her robe were singed, though she felt the blast of the heat in her boots. Henry, behind her, circled between the dragon and the other five Death Eaters, evading shouted curses due to his speed and the fact they had caught the Death Eaters by surprise. Once they recovered, though, the fight began in earnest, and Sky and Henry began a careful dance that drew a number of Death Eaters further from the dragons.

"Sky!" Henry yelled. "Tell him to attack the others – that his weyr is under attack! Get him to help!"

Dodging red and green bursts of magic, Sky struggled to split her awareness – the mountainous terrain, the Death Eaters and their curses, the Chinese Fireball they had tried to free… _Help! _shethought at it, unable to articulate more than that. _Help!_

It was enough. The dragon roared in rage, and _yanked_ so abruptly at the chains surrounding him that they snapped and fell with a clank to the rock. He turned his immense bulk, and his tail took out two Death Eaters, sweeping them from the mountainside, their screams echoing as they fell. A distant crack suggested that at least one of them had had the presence of mind to Apparate away.

"Sky! Watch your tail!" Henry yelled, and a bolt of something whizzed past her shoulders as she instinctively swerved. She forced her broom into an impossible turn, heading back the way she had come, back toward the dragons and Henry, barely cognizant of Charlie and Jamie's brooms and spells joining the fray. One by one, she and Henry freed the dragons and turned them into the fight, while Charlie and Jamie held the Death Eaters off.

The muscles in her shoulders and arms were burning from the constant yanking and pulling to swerve or turn to avoid spells, dragons and cliffs that made maneuvering tight and treacherous. She turned again and again back into the fight, her wand out now, shouting _"Expelliarmus! Reducto! Stupefy!"_ and anything else she could think of, her shouts joining those of the others, Death Eaters and dragon handlers alike, the bellows and roars of the dragons adding to the noise and the fury. It was chaotic; keeping track of what was going on was nearly impossible. Suddenly, a Death Eater swerved between her and Henry, as Henry chased after another who was casting spells at the smallest of the Fireballs. She watched in horror as the Death Eater raised his arm to point his wand at Henry's undefended back.

"_NO!_" she screamed, and leaning forward, rammed her broom into the Death Eater's back. The jarring of the contact used up the last of her strength, and her hands slipped from her broom just as a flash of red from another direction hit her squarely in the chest. The world went black, and she knew no more.

...oooOOOooo...

Something brushed at her mind, and she waved it off. The mind-touch came again, insistently. She tried to say something, but it came out as a moan. Voices rose and fell around her, sounding urgent. _The dragons…_ She struggled to open her eyes, to move, to no avail, and something pressed her painfully down into whatever surface she lay on. Time passed, and the mind-touch was always there, watching, supporting, soothing, worried. _Don't worry_, she thought at it, and felt something in return.

Voices again.

"… breached the wards?"

"I don't know. I don't know, Roberto. We checked. They were just… gone. No alarm, no nothing."

"Could one of us have accidentally dismantled them?"

"Or on purpose?" That was Stewart, Sky thought, his voice tight with suspicion.

"What? Who'd do that?" Jamie.

"What are you suggesting?" Daniel, admonitory.

"She's _Slytherin_!" Stewart again.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Henry.

"She _saved _Henry's life, you arse! Take it back!" Jamie again.

"That's _enough_!" Roberto, uncharacteristically sharp.

"She's been with me every day," Charlie's voice said from over Sky's head. "Just when do you think she'd have had the chance?"

"You can't watch her every minute," Stewart argued.

"I'm _in her mind_! Every time we train, I'm _in her mind_! You think I wouldn't have seen?"

"Would you see if you weren't looking for it?"

There was silence a moment, then Charlie said, "There is _nothing _in her mind – _nothing _– that suggests anything but good intent. She… her mind is full of dragons and worry and fear… Even off-guard, her thoughts are of work, and school, and…" Charlie did not continue, and Sky found her thoughts drifting to _what else _Charlie might have seen in his forays into her mind. Images of his silhouette against the night sky, his hands, their sure, firm gentleness… the way he moved… the way he flew… the sound of his voice… the warmth of his thigh next to hers as they ate dinner, the scent of him as they worked a dragon together, the warmth of him at her back as he taught her not to get dragon-lost… _Charlie_ filling her thoughts more and more… And Snape and loss and confusion and overwhelming sadness… She drifted to sleep, a mind-touch like a warm caress. _I'm here… rest, Sky. Heal. I'm here._

She woke again to the sounds of dishes, pots and pans, the smell of something good, the rumbling of her stomach, and the sensation of a full bladder. She went to sit up and pain lanced through her back, making her gasp and bringing tears to her eyes. Instantly, a hand touched her forehead, and another pressed her gently back down.

"Not yet, Sky. You're not ready."

"What…?" she managed to rasp out, her throat sore.

The owner of the hand came into view, and she was not surprised to find Charlie looking down at her. He sat on a chair he waved over to the side of the bed.

"Sorry you're still in pain. We had to find Skelegrow – didn't have any in camp, and there wasn't any in town, either. The delay… it means it'll take longer for you to heal. You're nearly there, but Daniel says another couple of days…"

While he talked, he leaned forward, both elbows on his knees, hands clasped between them, searching her face. She tried to keep the pain from showing.

"Let me get you a pain draught."

"No," she said. "Bathroom."

He looked chagrined at that, and took a wand from his sleeve. "Ah… as to that… you can't move yet, so we've… If you don't mind… It's just safer for you…"

She looked at him in confusion, and he looked away, a red flush growing on his fair face. He waved his wand while muttering "Evanesco!" and she felt an abrupt relief of pressure. Her eyes flew to his and then away as she suddenly realized what he had done, and she felt herself redden as well. They sat uncomfortably for a moment before she finally found her voice and said, "Perhaps you could teach me that…" He nodded without looking at her, then stood, turning away.

"You should be hungry."

She nodded, then realized he wouldn't see it, and said, "Yes – please."

"You'll have to make do with broth and tea today, I'm afraid. Get you used to food again…"

She was confused. "How long…?"

Charlie hesitated. "Two weeks."

"_Two weeks?_" She was stunned. "_Two weeks?_" she repeated uncomprehendingly.

Charlie moved off to the kitchen area. "You were badly injured," he said, and she could feel him holding something back.

"_How _badly?"

He didn't respond.

"Charlie, _how badly_?"

He returned to her side with a mug of something that smelled like broth, from which stuck a straw. "You can't sit up. You'll have to sip it. It's only warm – not hot." He held the straw to her lips, refusing to let her hold the mug.

She glared at him. "Charlie – _how badly_?"

He met her eyes steadily and said, "You fell onto a boulder… you broke your back."

"I what?" She nearly sat up in alarm, and pain lanced through her back again. The last thing she heard as she passed out was Charlie swearing and shouting for Daniel.

...oooOOOooo...

The next time she woke, it was dark. A soft light came from behind her, illuminating someone sleeping in a chair at the foot of the bed, covered in a blanket. Jamie. She stifled a sigh of disappointment, and when she tried to shift to a different position, discovered she was lightly held down with some spell – to prevent her from sitting up, she realized. Taking the hint, she forced herself to lay still. Her slight movements must have been enough, though. Jamie stirred and sat up, and seeing her awake, asked, "How are you?" his voice a whisper in the quiet of the night.

"Fine – I think," she said, testing her body, taking inventory, waiting for pain. "Stiff. I want to move."

"Better not. Daniel says two more days. You scared the dragon piss out of Charlie earlier." He smiled.

"Is he alright?" she asked, stifling the urge to sit up in concern, again.

Jamie laughed. "Well – if you can call shouting loud enough to startle half the dragons of Romania, and shadowing Daniel's every move like a dragon on dinner until Daniel threatened to stun him senseless 'okay', then yes – he's fine." He smiled affectionately. "I sent him to bed. He hasn't slept more than an hour here and there for days."

"I'm sorry – I'm so sorry. I screwed up."

Jamie looked startled. "No, you didn't. You did _great_! You were great in the fight, and you were great with the dragons – and you saved Henry's life. I owe you for that. We all do."

"I remember a flash of red…"

He nodded. "Stunning spell. Charlie took out the Death Eater who shot it at you."

"We know they were Death Eaters, then?"

"Some of them, at least, and others obviously in You-Know-Who's camp."

"So we were right – he came for the dragons."

They were silent a while. "It's heating up, isn't it – the war? It's getting worse."

"Yeah," Jamie said quietly. "But don't worry about that right now, Sky. Just get better, okay?"

"Anything on the radio?"

"Nothing new."

"So Harry's still out there, then… and Ron and Hermione…"

"So far as we know, yes." She could hear the hope and fear in his voice. "Go to sleep, Sky," and he murmured something in a sing-song voice and she faded away into dreams of Harry Potter, Fred and George Weasley, her old Head of House, Charlie, and dragons.

Two days later, Daniel slipped an arm under her shoulders and helped her slowly to a sitting position, while the others stood around in various states of anxiety and relief. Charlie repeatedly chewed on his fingernails while Jamie and Stewart nudged him into stopping. Roberto sat at her side, earnestly watching for any sign of pain on her face. When she winced, Charlie started forward, but he stopped at a look from Daniel.

"It's okay. I'm just stiff, is all," she reassured them. She was shaking and sweaty, but Daniel handed her a rejuvenating potion, which countered that in short order. Daniel began massaging her arms and back to help with the stiffness, while the others breathed sighs of relief. She stood long enough for Daniel and Roberto to help her to a chair across from the bed, shocked at her weakness, but Daniel assured her it was simply due to disuse of muscles. Now that she could be up and about, as well as take potions without assistance, she would recover more rapidly.

The next few days were filled with exercise, alternating with rest. She was rarely alone. The dragon handlers took turns staying with her while the others went out on patrol, and she realized it was more to help in case Death Eaters penetrated their camp while she was stationary, than to keep her company. It was urgent she return to flying as soon as possible, so they were less vulnerable, as the Death Eaters who escaped would have made the attack known to Voldemort. They had to be mobile. So it was that four days after sitting up, Sky stood between her tent and Charlie's, astride her broom, trying to get her body to remember how to kick off. She felt like a squib – or at least like an eleven year old at her first flying lesson.

"Makes perfectly good sense, Sky. Don't worry about it. It'll come back to you – muscle memory," Charlie reassured her as she tried for the third time to kick off. She was terrified. It felt like she had lost a part of her magic. Charlie sensed her fear. "Sky…" He put a hand over hers, which clutched her broom desperately. "Let me help."

"How?" she wailed in despair.

"Look at me," he ordered, and when she did, they slipped into each other's mind with an ease that left her breathless, and she recognized the mind-touch that had lulled her to sleep during her recovery. "Like this," she felt, rather than heard, and it was simple, then, to move with Charlie, into the air, circling the camp just once before settling back down, the whole of the short flight spent in each other's mind. When that contact was severed, she practically cried out in protest, but Charlie's warm hand on her shoulder reassured her of his continued presence. "Let's do it again – on your own this time," he suggested, and they kicked off easily, a flight around the camp and then off a ways to check on the dragonets, nearly as large as their mares now.

...oooOOOooo...

Once Sky was mobile, they moved camp, too anxious about possible retaliation by Death Eaters to stay a moment longer than necessary. Sky slowly rebuilt strength enough for longer flights and for apparating, Charlie hovering protectively at every new attempt. The warmth of that grew on her so that she came to count on it, and she sometimes found herself leaning into his warm, muscled body when they sat at dinner, or during their nightly meetings.

He allowed it, one arm behind her, his hand tracing small circles on the small of her back or twirling a lock of her hair around his fingers. Then Stewart would stare or make a sound, and he would remove his hand, though he never shifted away from her.

They saw no more sign of Death Eaters, but the townsfolk continued to be wary of them. Spring arrived with agonizing slowness in the upper reaches of the mountains, though the sky remained mostly clear. Other than the one devastated weyr, the dragons weathered the long winter well. Each time they visited the Swedish Shortsnouts, Charlie led Sky carefully into contact with Garth, and she would emerge from that mind-touch to find his eyes glittering at her strangely. When she asked what was wrong, he would blink, tell her she had done fine, and turn away, Stewart's eyes following him. Sky wondered what he was keeping from her.

Once Sky was strong enough, Roberto split the group again. He would have preferred to split Sky and Charlie up, since both could send a Patronus in case of emergency, but after a private consultation with Charlie, he relented and left them together with Jamie and Henry, while he, Daniel and Stewart made up a second group. They made the rounds of the weyrs again and again, spending days with each group, checking the dragons' health. All continued to be well. Once, when the two groups reconnoitered, Daniel explained that they stepped up the pace in spring to account for the mating seasons of the various species, and that their patrol followed the sequence in which the dragons came into season, doubling back to catch the Welsh Greens and Swedish Shortsnouts more frequently, as the smaller dragons bred earlier, to give the offspring more time to grow and strengthen before facing the next harsh winter.


	8. Skylark's Dragon Part 8

_The universe contained herein belongs to J.K. Rowling. The original characters and plot are mine, and my responsibility.  
No dragons were harmed in the crafting of this story._

Never tickle a sleeping dragon. Just type those reviews in _quietly._

* * *

**Skylark's Dragon Part 8**

News from the outside continued to be sparse, particularly as townspeople were reluctant to talk, and Potterwatch had been intermittent, at best, as _his _minions apparently kept whoever was running it on the run. In early March, the week of Easter, Henry got Potterwatch again. The password had been _Albus_. They crowded around to hear the familiar voices relay the news. They stifled their reactions as it was reported that Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell were dead, as was Bathilda Bagshot and a goblin named Gornuck, announced by a voice that everyone recognized as belonging to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Charlie went pale and practically passed out when he recognized Fred and George's voices, and the whole tent went even quieter than before, if possible, as they strained to listen. Sky recognized Remus Lupin's voice as well, as he gave his cryptic message to Potter to "trust your instincts… which are almost always right…" She contained a burst of relieved excitement – Harry was still alive, then!

Xeno Lovegood was in prison – something to do with trumped-up charges of treason. Hagrid had thrown a "support Harry Potter" party and had nearly been taken, but had fled to the mountains above Hogwarts. Rapier – Charlie's brother Fred – reminded people not to take chances, but to keep the faith, in his own inimitable, humorous way. The next password would be _Mad Eye_.

When the broadcast ended, and the dial spun away again, more than one of them sank into chairs, sagging in mingled grief and relief, tears in their eyes or frankly running down their faces. Roberto hoarsely called for fire whiskey, and waved a glass to each of them.

Hearing Fred, Lupin and Shacklebolt was a relief, but the imprisonment of Xeno and the reports of deaths had them all on edge, none more so than Charlie, chafing at the lack of news about his youngest brother or, indeed, about most of his family. His nighttime habit of staring off home became a rigid vigil, and Sky took to crouching at his side, gazing off toward England as if the sky in that direction would yield something useful. There they would stay, silent, one or the other of them conjuring blankets, or fire whiskey, or hot chocolate… one or the other of them surreptitiously wiping tears or fear or hope from their faces, neither of them acknowledging the other's pain, until dawn began to lighten the sky behind them, when they would slip, without a word, back to their tents, evading the light and each other's eyes, as if that allowed them to deny what they were doing.

When they stumbled from their tents scant hours later, the others took to preparing their breakfast, handing them tea laced with restoratives, which they drank without a word, accepting the care and the pats on the shoulder the others felt compelled to give.

...oooOOOooo...

One such morning, Charlie shook off Stewart's pat irritably, and refused breakfast, glaring at Sky as if it were her fault, whatever was bothering him. She didn't feel like eating either, and had the illogical, practically irresistible urge to pin Henry to the ground when he came up behind her, and to curse Stewart when he patted Charlie. Daniel and Roberto observed them both and waved the others back. Stewart glared at them all and stomped out of camp, while Henry and Jamie pulled back to stand by each other, hands occasionally reaching out to touch each other reassuringly. It all _irked _Sky to no end, and she felt both an overwhelming need to get away from them all, and a fierce desire to pace a circle around Charlie and guard him.

_Mine!_ her mind growled. She tried to shake it off, to no avail. Charlie must have been aware of it, irritated by it, because he was flushed, heated…

"Charlie…" Roberto said into what Sky suddenly realized had been a long silence. "You'd better go."

Charlie looked up at Roberto, his body tense, as if ready to spring at someone at the slightest provocation. He was gripping the table as if to keep himself from leaping up to… what? Sky watched warily, herself ready to take off after him, should he decide to bolt, the muscles in her thighs, calves, and shoulders ready to spring after him, grab him… pin him down… make him hers.

_Mine! _her mind repeated in a drumbeat tattoo that thrummed its way through her.

"Go on, lad," Daniel said. None of the dragon handlers approached, watching the two of them almost carefully, as if they had turned dangerous overnight. "Take the girl with you," Daniel said quietly.

Charlie started at that and turned glazed eyes to Sky. He shook himself hard, and peeled talons from the table's edge, backed slowly off the bench, eyes never leaving Sky, his tongue flicking out to lick dry, hot, too-red lips. Sky watched him avidly, carefully.

"Go on, lass." Daniel at her back was an irritation, not a threat. _Too old_, she catalogued_._ She did not know what she meant by that. Someone thrust something into her hands, and she found herself outside the tent, astride her broom, ready to kick off. Her head whipped to the right to follow Charlie as he emerged from his tent, broom in hand, looking grim… still flushed, as if…

She found it compelling… his sinewy legs, hard beneath the tight trousers and robes of his dragon handler uniform. She found herself staring indecently, but could not turn her gaze away from… her prize. _Mine_, her brain supplied again. She bit her lower lip and looked up to see Charlie staring at her. He kicked off suddenly, flew over her as if to taunt her with the sight of him, then took off like a streak. Growling angrily, she kicked off and sped after him. _How dare he! _she thought. _Mine!_

She chased after him, a speck in the sky ahead of her, some part of her staying coherent enough to recognize that he was leading them to the Swedish Shortsnouts. She knew he had landed, even though she could not see him. He was _hiding _from her! How _dare _he! _Fine! _Two could play that game!

She stalked him, creeping around outcroppings, waiting behind boulders to listen for tell-tale shifting of rock, or scrape of boot on stone. Finally, she espied him at the far edge of a fairly clear swath, next to a bit of the mountainside, staring off toward something not too far from where he stood. She crept closer, somehow not daring to let him see her, not daring to reach out and grab him. Not yet.

His gaze was fixed on the Swedish Shortsnouts, one in particular, who was spreading her wings and stretching her sinuous neck in a sensuous display that hit Sky somewhere low in her abdomen, spreading between her legs, building a slow, intense burn in her belly. The other females were preening, too, but only this one caught her eye… and Charlie's eyes turned toward her then, burning with something that made her gasp in… hunger… desire. She tore her gaze away to consider the other females. _Just the females_, she realized. _Where was Garth?_

And without a thought for the risk of becoming dragon-lost, she found him, perched high atop the ridge behind them, wings half unfurled, watching… waiting… his gaze as hot as Sky's, the fire in her a pale reflection of the fire in him. _Merlin! He was… magnificent!_ Her awareness of it made him bugle a challenge to the sky, though there were no other male Shortsnouts in flying distance. Their awareness of that made them turn triumphantly toward the females… and Charlie.

She stepped toward him, and just for a moment, panic cleared the haze from his eyes and he looked at her pleadingly. "No!" he rasped out. "No, Sky! Stay away! I won't be able to help it…"

"What is it?" she asked, protective urges causing her to step closer and raise a hand to reassure him with a touch. He flushed and batted her hand away. "No!" He was unable to back up any further. Back against a wall of stone, his eyes burned at her, and he licked his lips again, his eyes fixed on her. She was nearly undone by the sight.

_Mine! _her mind crowed in triumph, and at that moment, the dragons bellowed and took flight, Charlie's eyes whipping away to follow them in mingled elation and fear. Garth leapt after them, the downstroke of his wings almost brushing Sky's shoulder, and she snapped into his mind, nearly unable to distinguish self from dragon. They bugled in challenge and triumph, pursuing their quarry, their mate. _Mine! _ Garth's mind bellowed, and Sky's mind agreed.

She barely registered the struggle on Charlie's face as he fought to retain enough presence of mind to slow her down – slow _them _down, so that when Garth finally caught his prey – Charlie's partner – and they twined their bodies in glorious heat, mating mid-air, his talons holding his mate, his wings keeping both of them aloft, lest, in their passion, they be dashed against the rocks, Charlie did the same, so that they collapsed onto blankets he somehow managed to conjure from thin air as they grabbed at each other and fumbled past clothing to plant hot kisses on necks and chests, to nibble at nipples and necks and bellies and fingers… to press in delicious heat against each other and scratch at backs with unsatisfyingly dull talons, until, as one with Garth and his mate, Sky felt a sharp, sudden penetration, and they, too, dissolved in the repeated surge of shared fire.

...oooOOOooo...

She felt the rumbling of Garth's chest under her… or was that what _he _heard, head rested on the beautiful, clever, sleeping dragon beneath his head? She couldn't tell, and thought it prudent to open her eyes and see.

Blue eyes met her gaze and when she would have jerked away in startlement, strong arms held her close, refusing to let her retreat. _Mine_ echoed in her mind, and the arms tightened around her, and something fierce flashed in the eyes.

"Charlie?" she said, hesitantly, and a rumbling "Mmmph" was the only answer. She couldn't help it – she laughed, and the intensity of the blue eyes shifted through relief to amusement. When she went to push away, though, Charlie refused to let go. "No," he said, "Please. We have to talk."

She was about to point out that they could very well talk with a bit of distance between them when she realized that they were both utterly naked… and completely twined around each other. She flushed and stiffened, and the amusement on Charlie's face turned rueful.

"Are you all right?" he asked, searching her eyes. She felt guilt flash through his mind, and her arms tightened around him in automatic reassurance.

"It's… I'm… it's okay… I think. I think I'm… fine," she said, taking a confused inventory. She was having a hard time distinguishing her limbs from his… and from Garth's and… the other dragon's… difficulty differentiating her thoughts and feelings from those of the still-sleeping dragons and the mate that lay rumbling against her. She was about to reject that startling label when Charlie lifted a hand to her face and traced a finger from forehead to chin, his touch gentle yet intense, leaving a trail of sensitized tingling behind.

"Sky," he said, "look at me."

She complied, blushing.

"Can you block them out a little? Try," he ordered gently, not stopping his caresses.

She tried. She built a wall between her and Garth, the sensation of him laying his head gently atop his sleeping mate, but it was hard, with Charlie's chest rising and falling under her own head. He continued to murmur something she did not hear, his hand moving to card fingers through her hair, soothing her. She leaned into the sensation, and slipped a thin wall between her and Garth, then strengthened it with resolve, absently turning her head to kiss Charlie's palm. He chuckled, and the sound brought a grin to her face, then snapped her back to awareness as she realized what she had done.

"_Oh, Merlin!_" she said, and started to pull away, but he still would not let her go.

"We haven't done talking," he said, suddenly the Dragon Master again, a whip of authority in his voice, "and until we do, you're not going anywhere."

"Well, then, _talk_!" she ordered back, and slapped a hand on his bare chest in emphasis.

"You know why this happened, don't you?"

She did. It was their link with the dragons, and the dragons in heat… "Yes…" she said cautiously.

"It doesn't mean – "

Her shoulders stiffened and she tried to pull out of his grasp again. "I _know _it doesn't mean anything, Charlie Weasley!" she said tightly, and then was appalled when she started to cry. She buried her head against his chest and sobbed, confused, though she thought her tears had something to do with the images and memories of Charlie that flitted through her head, over and over… Charlie against the night sky, watching home… Charlie's thigh warm against hers at dinner when no one else talked to her… the gentleness of his hands despite their square masculinity and the silver scars that streaked and dotted their backs… the feel of him in her mind as he pulled her back from being mind-lost… the anguish and relief on his face when he thought of his family… the way his hips swayed when he walked… the sensuousness of his movement… what it felt like to fly with him, his chest warm against her back…

She was in love with him, she realized, and wondered when and how that had happened… if she had been from that first night, when she'd watched him stare into the distance, her Point Me spell telling her he was gazing toward England, home, his family. She moaned in misery, hating that the very person who comforted her was the very person she wanted so much _more _from… and would never have.

"Sky," he said insistently.

"What?" she muttered and sniffed.

"You didn't let me finish," he said in admonition.

She pulled back enough to look at him. "I don't want you to," she whispered.

He snorted. "And here I thought Slytherins were as daring as Gryffindors! Where's your sense of self-preservation? Where's your daring?" He laughed and tilted her face up to his so he could see her eyes. "I was _going _to say – before you so rudely interrupted me, you wench – that just because Garth and Lilith threw us together _doesn't _mean I – _Charlie_ – didn't want it." His eyes glittered at her in hope, amusement, and warmth, and something like a question in his stillness. He held his breath, though he would never have let it show, waiting for her to respond. She inhaled a shaky breath, and her eyes filled with tears again.

"Charlie," she murmured, and raised her hand to run fingers along his jaw to his ear, into his hair, and pulled him, unresisting, into a kiss.

There were no dragons involved in their lovemaking this time – just human hands and skin and mouths; just hips and chests and buttocks firm under her hands, just the warmth of Charlie coming inside her, just as her own warmth exploded and spread up her spine to engulf her mind. Panting and sweaty, they collapsed into each other again, trading nips, and kisses, and slow, calming caresses.

"Charlie," she said, when they were finally breathing normally again, "you said Dragon Masters rarely get married… This is why, isn't it?"

He lifted himself up on one elbow, and trailed fingers up her arm to her neck, chuckling when she shivered, and tucked a strand of long hair behind her ear. "Yes. Imagine what it's like to be on the receiving end of dragonlust without knowing what's gotten into your mate… It'd be frightening, don't you think?"

"Hmm…" was all she said, and kissed him again, sucking his lower lip into her mouth until he replaced it with tongue, and they kissed themselves breathless again. "I'm not afraid," she said as they broke apart, and he laughed and pulled her tightly to him, where she could feel the rumbling of his amusement in his chest.

"The others will be wanting us back at some point," he said, running his hands down her back and over her hips. She groaned and buried her head against his shoulder, saying in a muffled voice, "They'll know, won't they?"

He laughed again. "Yes – I should think they'll know." A strange tone entered his voice and she pulled away to look at him. "What is it?"

He refused to answer, so she thought about Henry and Jamie, who would surely not object, and Daniel and Roberto, who had all but thrust her at Charlie… yesterday? This morning?... and Stewart…

"Oh! Oh, Merlin! Stewart… he'll have kittens, won't he?"

"More likely a Hungarian Horntail dragonet," Charlie admitted ruefully.

"But… _why?_" she asked, somewhat plaintively.

Charlie hesitated, then shrugged – to the extent he could do that, laying down and with his arms around her. "He was… hoping it'd be him."

Sky shook her head. "_What?_"

"Stewart's gay. He was hoping he'd bond with a dragon – or at least that I'd consent to have him with me next time Lilith rose to mate."

"Oh," she said. "Um… are you…?"

Charlie laughed. "No. But that probably wouldn't matter in the middle of…" he waved a hand, "… this, do you think?"

She thought back to the morning and flushed. "No. Probably not," she admitted.

"So I've been putting him off… not letting them know – other than Rob – when it was time…"

"That must have been… awkward," she said.

Charlie shrugged. "It was okay. I managed… until _you…_" He snugged her against him again, laughing when she flushed.

"Charlie… are we okay?" she asked. He looked confused. "I mean… you and me… between us. I mean… you hardly _looked _at me before…"

He rumbled a rueful laugh. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," he said, running the backs of his fingers along her chin. His eyes twinkled. "You just never caught me. But yes – _we're _okay! Now _up_! We need to get dressed… and get back to the others." He pulled away and threw off the blankets. Sky sat up to do the same.

"Should we check on Garth and Lilith first?"

Charlie's eyes twinkled at her across the blankets. "You can't tell?"

Sky thought her way to Garth, surprised and somewhat troubled to find he was still in her mind. "Merlin! That's not… _permanent_, is it?"

Charlie shrugged. "Don't know yet." He hesitated. "It gets stronger… the longer you're bonded… the more often they mate. So in a way, yes, but it'll fade after this morning. Don't worry. Your mind still belongs to you." He held out a hand to help her stand, and she took it, letting the blanket covering her fall to the ground.

"Mmm…" Charlie thrummed appreciatively deep in his throat, but he let her fingers drop and grinned at her.

Their clothes were strewn about, intermingled, and they tossed socks and underthings and shirts and pants at each other, laughing and teasing. Sky didn't quite understand why she wasn't self-conscious, standing nude until they had sorted piles and located stray items, but she was grateful. They dressed quickly, cold despite the warmth of dragon in their veins and mind. Charlie waved his wand to banish the blankets, caught her up in a tight embrace, kissed her soundly, and, in a shocking violation of protocol, Apparated them away.

They finished the kiss in the middle of the camp, nearly in the center of the circle of tents, amidst hoots and whistles, and pulled away from each other. Charlie bowed, and Sky blushed, and that set off the laughter and hooting again. Stewart emerged from his tent, and Sky held her breath. He looked from Charlie to Sky and back, then the tension left his shoulders. He shrugged and grinned, and said, "Ok. _Fine!_ I get it. You're _not gay_!" Everyone laughed again, and Sky breathed a sigh of relief.


	9. Skylark's Dragon Part 9

_The universe contained herein belongs to J.K. Rowling. The original characters and plot are mine, and my responsibility.  
No dragons were harmed in the crafting of this story._

Please feed the dragons. And the dragon handlers. And the author. Thank you.

* * *

**Skylark's Dragon Part 9**

It was odd how easily she slipped into a different kind of working relationship with Charlie. In some ways, it was the same. He sat next to her at meals, his leg warm against hers. He stayed at her back or ordered her up against him when their work was dangerous. He continued to monitor and tutor her in Occlumency. But they worked more fluidly together, and she realized that that carried over to her work with the rest of the team. Their work was seamless, efficient, nearly effortless in their ability to read each other's needs and intent, and she realized how disruptive having an apprentice had been, when she first arrived.

No further incursions of Death Eaters troubled the reserve, but that very lack was almost as troubling as a direct attack would have been. What was _he _doing, that he didn't bother with a primitive retaliation? It made them worry more about home, as if they could feel the tension building, even from this distance. Sky, Charlie, and indeed all of them, spent hours staring off to the west, wondering and worrying. Potterwatch became even more sporadic, clearly on the run.

Only days later, a Patronus from Charlie's father broke their concentration while tending a wounded dragon, and Charlie immediately dropped out of the group, leaving Sky to replace him with the team. She immediately sent soothing thoughts to the groggy beast, helping it remain calm while Henry and Jamie soothed aloe and a more complex burn ointment onto its burnt snout. She winced when they touched the beast's sensitive nostrils. Its pain echoed back through their link, but she successfully blocked her awareness of that while keeping the beast calm. When the dangerous operation was over, she wiped her face with a pocket square, trembling from the effort, while Henry and Jamie congratulated her. "Couldn't have done it without you! Good as Charlie, wasn't she, Jamie? Never even realized he'd left," Henry said, looking around. "Where is he, by the way?"

They found him pacing in his tent. He looked up, his face full of conflict and uncertainty. Sky held back, though he sought her eyes. "They're in hiding. My family. Luna… Luna's been taken. They don't know where."

"Ginny?" Jamie asked immediately.

"Safe. She came home for Easter."

"Oh, thank God," Sky murmured.

Charlie reached a hand out to her, and she moved to his side, and wrapped her arms around him, startled to feel he was shaking. "Is everyone okay? Did they get everyone out?"

He swallowed, clearly fighting down the need to cry or something. He nodded, but said, "All but P… Percy," choking on his brother's name, torn between love, loss and anger.

"Do you need to go?"

"No. Dad said I should stay. They'll call if they need me."

No one had to add, "… if there's time… if they can." They all knew his family could be wiped out in a single Death Eater raid, by a single betrayal or error in judgment. They wanted Charlie here to be sure at least _one _of them survived. Charlie turned away, but Sky felt the tears that burned down his face as if they were her own, her mind and his connected in his moment of pain and fear. She knew better than to try to comfort him.

That night – and every night thereafter, she found herself waking, mid-night, an ache and a need so strong it nearly made her double over in pain, calling her to Charlie's tent, where it would be assuaged only by crawling into his bed to wrap herself around him, allowing him to cling to her, shaking or silent or needy, until he fell asleep once more.

He went through the motions of the job so distractedly that Sky took the lead now, keeping him at her back, pointing the way to dragon weyrs or individuals, knowing that Charlie's raw, aching need to be _home_, for his family, skewed his perception. With Sky's help, the team remained at full strength, and all of them worked to distract Charlie, submerging their own worry in order to care for him.

...oooOOOooo...

When it came, it was unexpected. How could it have been otherwise? Despite the fact that they sat in tense expectation every morning and night, despite their hypervigilance even mid-operation or mid-flight, it still was a shock when the silver weasel appeared in their midst one day at the start of May, nearly at midnight. May second, Sky would remember afterward. Everyone would remember. The weasel said only three words: "It's started. Hogwarts."

There was a moment of silence when it faded away, then a moment of panic before Roberto roared for silence and everyone froze. He looked around at them, pointing.

You, you, you, and you," he barked, pointing at Charlie, Jamie, Sky, and Stewart, "Go! _NOW!_ And don't get your arses killed or I'll hunt you down and kill you all over again!" Henry went to protest, but Rob held him back. "No, lad. Much as I know you want to go and cover Jamie's back, you'd be more hindrance than help. You don't know the castle… you don't know the people… You could attack the wrong person by accident. No. I'm sorry – you'd best stay here."

Henry cast an anguished look at Jamie and said, "Come back – you hear me? _Come back!_" and it was only then that Sky realized there was more than friendship between the two men.

She looked at Roberto and said, "No. I don't need to go. I… I can't. My father and brother… are on the wrong side, and I… I can't… what if I had to… I can't!" She begged them to understand, and Daniel immediately seconded her decision.

"We need her here, Roberto. Let the boys go. Sky can stay here and help with the dragons. Besides, they're used to being mind-touched… they'll panic if they don't feel her or Charlie around. And… she shouldn't be made to face that."

Sky looked at Charlie – whose brother Percy was on "the wrong side"… but he nodded at her, his face oddly relieved, and she realized that if she went, it would be one more person for him to worry about. She nodded at him reassuringly, but already, he was turning away.

Charlie scrambled to grab his broom and frantically checked pockets for who-knew-what, calming only when patting his chest revealed his wand in its usual place. He did not even say goodbye – to any of them – only pushed Stewart and Jamie to _hurry, _threatening to leave without them. In a stunningly short period of time, maybe less than five minutes, the three were airborne, agreeing to Apparate as soon as they were out of earshot of the dragons' sensitive hearing, agreeing to push themselves to the limit to _get there_ as soon as possible, taking longer jumps, and shorter rests and flights in between to recover.

The four remaining behind watched until they were out of sight. Sky's heart pounded with fear – for Charlie, for Harry Potter, for the Weasleys and everyone she had ever known and loved. _What was Snape doing now_, she wondered, and cast her mind homeward, suddenly aware of the absolute lack of Charlie in her mind.

"Come on, lass," Roberto said at her elbow, and steered her back to camp, where she, Henry, Daniel and Roberto stared at each other or their tea or into the distance until Roberto finally shook them out of it with orders to patrol over the nearest weyr. They landed downwind, of course, knowing exactly where the Shortsnouts had been that morning. Roberto strongly cautioned them to _pay attention_ as they moved forward. Sky knew he was just keeping them busy… but that was better than doing nothing… than sitting in tense expectation, desperately trying to fend off fear…

The Shortsnouts were fine, of course. Garth, Lilith, and the rest were nimble, intelligent beasts, excellently adapted to the mountainous terrain, and were typically the least troubled of the weyrs. The dragon handlers merely observed and recorded notes for future use, well aware that Lilith would likely be laying eggs later in the season.

_I wonder if I'll be here when they hatch,_ Sky thought, realizing there were a mere three months left in her apprenticeship. She panicked a moment at the thought, and realized how much she would miss… everything… everyone… Charlie…

If he survived.

And the thought of it brought her to tears and the realization that people could be… _would _be, she forced herself to acknowledge… dying. Unconsciously, she found herself seeking out Garth's mind for comfort, drawn to him, needing something of Charlie. Roberto, Daniel and Henry did not interrupt, but kept an eye on the other dragons – especially Garth's mate, but they took no heed of her and let her pass. Garth's huge chest was warm, his hot breath gusting across her face, blowing her robes back slightly. He wuffed as she reached him, and rumbled in what felt very like a greeting. He did not protest when she leaned first her head, then her whole body, against him, while, warmed by what felt like a mental embrace, she cried out her fear and loss, her mind flicking from Charlie to his twin brothers to Harry Potter and his friends… flicking to Snape and away as if burned.

Would they survive? Would Voldemort win or lose? Could the Chosen One triumph with an army of students, teachers and the Order at his back, against Voldemort, Death Eaters, and who knew what other demons? Would her father and brother survive? Would Charlie?

She felt sick, but eventually cried herself out, and realized where she was. She looked up into multi-faceted eyes in which she was reflected a hundred times, and thought that life was just that fragmented, falling apart, and incomprehensible now. She sent a message of thanks to Garth, who nudged her gently with his snout, then turned to see Daniel, Henry and Roberto crouched or sitting on boulders, wands drawn, but held lightly, idly, keeping watch.

_Oh, Merlin! _she thought, and pushed off Garth, patting him, then made her way through the rest of the weyr, back to her teammates. Henry looked at her in frank envy. "Damn! I wish I could do that!" he said, and Daniel rumbled a deep laugh and nodded. Roberto smiled wryly at her. "Dragon Master," he said.

Sky shook her head ruefully. "Not yet – if ever," she protested, but he said, "As good as… nearly, anyway. You'll need to finish your apprenticeship, of course… and you'll need to travel a bit, see some of the dragons we don't have here, and pass your Master's exam, but frankly, I don't see how any of that will be a problem. Only one I've seen take to dragons as fast as you is Charlie… and since he'll be your examiner…" He shrugged as if the outcome was a foregone conclusion.

"But I want to stay _here_!" she burst out, and he looked at her in confusion.

"Of course, you'll stay here."

Sky gasped and gaped at him a moment. "I can stay?"

He shook his head, still confused. "You can't bond with Garth like that and then up and leave – not for long, anyway. Two weeks at a time, tops, or we'll have to restrain him from going to look for you." He mumbled something about "_bloody possessive dragons!" _and Daniel laughed.

Sky was stunned and tears came to her eyes again. _Merlin… I can stay! _she thought, and that brought her back to Charlie again… and Hogwarts… and the battle that, even now, must be raging.

...oooOOOooo...

The night deepened, but none of them went to sleep – or even moved from the side of the fire, poking at it with sticks, keeping it burning brightly as if it could illuminate… something. If any of them had been a seer, no doubt they would have Seen something in the flames, the thought of which made Sky shiver and move closer to Henry, who put an arm around her in comfort. _What was happening?_ Sky looked around and was suddenly aware that if it all went wrong, they four could end up being the only four wizards left, on the side of the Light. Then she shook that off as ridiculous – there were wizarding communities outside of Britain, after all… an entire village just at the northeast border of the reserve... Henry's people… Daniel's… Roberto's… but… and her heart filled with equal part fear and hope, and she focused on sending as much positive, protective energy in the direction of Hogwarts and home as she could, unconsciously seeking to protect all those she loved – some small part of her including even Snape in that blessing.

Dawn came, and the sun rose, and with it, Roberto and Daniel poked Sky and Henry awake. "Come on – let's have breakfast." Sky protested. "I know," Daniel said, "none of us feel like eating, but we can't help by starving ourselves. Let's patrol that northern border today – make sure the Chinese are okay."

She nodded, rose stiffly and stretched. It made sense. If Voldemort was going to send for dragons, it'd have to be the Chinese. He knew where they were, and they were close enough to the border to be accessible, though how he would get them to Scotland in time to aid in the battle, she didn't know. In any case, better safe…

It was hours – _hours –_ before they heard anything. They did not dare send an owl... Sky did not dare send a Patronus… for fear of distracting… anyone… mid-fight. A thousand scenarios played out in Sky's mind. They won. They lost. Everyone was okay. Everyone died. There was somewhere to come home to. It was all burned to ashes. She knew the others were experiencing the same, because of the thoughts that darkened or lightened their faces, the fact that they all had to shake themselves alert time after time, and force themselves to focus. The mountains and the dragons demanded it. Daniel handed out Pepper-Up potion when they landed near the Fireballs, and Roberto determined – correctly – that they were all too distracted to chance approaching them on foot. He outlined a flight path over them, with the goals of taking a head count and checking for signs of Death Eaters.

"But we won't engage – understood? If we see something, we meet back here. Is that clear?" They all agreed.

But all was well. All the Chinese were accounted for, and they did not seem restless or disturbed. There were no signs of anything human. They headed back west, pulled toward Scotland and Hogwarts and the Battle by unspoken agreement, as if their hearts directed their brooms.

Evening came, and still there was no word. Roberto wondered aloud if perhaps they should have stayed near the town, where official news might arrive first, but it was too late to go back east. He ordered them to bed, and they agreed to set a rotating watch, in case word arrived in the middle of the night.

...oooOOOooo...

Sky did not know how long she had been asleep when Henry shook her awake. "Sky, there's word." Her heart in her throat and fear clenching her stomach, she threw her robe over the clothes she had fallen asleep in, and thrust her feet into boots, hopping toward the tent flap in her hurry, wanting to know… and _not _wanting to know, at the same time.

An owl sat on Roberto's shoulder, and he and Daniel were looking at a bit of parchment, their faces illuminated by twin Lumos spells as they read. They looked up as Henry and Sky reached them, their faces distorted in the night, unreadable. Sky thought she might vomit. She fought it down, holding her breath.

"It's over," Daniel croaked, and she realized, with a shock, that his face was streaked with tears.

"_And?_" Henry demanded.

Roberto looked up. "We won," he said.

"Oh, thank God!" Henry and Sky said simultaneously, and Sky felt her knees buckle with relief. She caught herself, leaning weakly on Henry. "Charlie… Jamie… Stewart…?"

"Alive," Roberto said. "And uninjured."

Henry sank down on a boulder and raised shaking hands to his face. Sky, however, was not sure they were done.

"And… what of the others? The students… the faculty…?"

"There have been… losses…" Roberto said, and her stomach protested again, and Henry went tense.

"Who?"

"I don't have the full list," Roberto said heavily, "but… Remus Lupin and his wife…" Sky gasped and clutched at her chest. Roberto turned to her and she knew he wasn't done. "And Charlie's brother – Fred."

It went dead silent, and Sky struggled to make sense of what Roberto had said. "I'm sorry – what?" she asked. The words did not make sense. "What? I don't…"

"Sky…"

"No! _What?_"

"Fred… Fred didn't make it. The rest…" Roberto's voice shook and he took hold of himself, cleared his throat, and tried again. "The rest of his family is all right. I'm sorry, Sky… I know you knew him…"

Just for a moment, Sky's blood turned to ice in her veins, and the world seem to stop, then turn around her, and she felt disoriented, as if the Earth had just reversed its direction of spin. A hundred images of Fred and George – always together, flicked through her mind in rapid sequence, and she found it hard to breathe. _Fred._ It was inconceivable. She forced it down, forced herself back to the moment.

"Who else," She demanded past the constriction of her heart.

"I don't know. Jamie only said there were casualties."

There was silence for several long moments before Henry asked, hesitantly, "And… Potter?"

"He lived. He made it."

For some reason, this broke all of them, and Sky was not the only one to break down in sobs. She stumbled to where Roberto and Daniel were standing, Henry close behind her, and the four of them clung to each other, unashamed of tears and shaking shoulders.

...oooOOOooo...

It was impossible, unthinkable, to go back to sleep. Daniel tentatively offered Draught of Dreamless Sleep, but none of them accepted, and instead he put on tea, though they all felt like fire whiskey would have been more appropriate. They spent the time until dawn talking quietly about Fred, about Harry Potter, about friends and family and Hogwarts and America and New Zealand and Columbia, invoking love and connection, keeping each other company through the night as they waited for _more._

By dawn, they had a plan – overfly the rest of the reserve, keeping their patrol general unless there were obvious problems, and then head to town, where at least they could find a copy of _The Prophet_ or _The Quibbler_. Potterwatch remained silent… might be silent from now on, having served its purpose. The airwaves were eerily quiet, as if the whole of the wizarding world was in shock.

They jointly sent an owl to Charlie and his family, and other messages of support to Stewart and Jamie. With a pang, it occurred to Sky that she had not even wondered about her father and brother until now. Had they participated in the battle or hung back? And if the former, had they lived or died? She was surprised to find it mattered… that she did not want them to have died… so she appended a note to Stewart asking him to find out, though why she chose him over Jamie, she did not know.


	10. Skylark's Dragon Part 10

_The universe contained herein belongs to J.K. Rowling. The original characters and plot are mine, and my responsibility.  
No dragons were harmed in the crafting of this story._

****Please review. Thank you.

* * *

**Skylark's Dragon Part 10**

* * *

_Sky,_

_Sorry I haven't had a chance to owl you before this. It's hard to get an owl's time right now, with so much going on. I've shrunk an issue of The Prophet for you to share with the others. Fred's funeral is tomorrow… and there's a service for many of the others… Stewart says to tell you your family is alive and unscathed. He didn't seem to like them very well. Do you want me to pass along a message to them? I'm going to stay here a while… help my parents and George… I'll be back in a couple of weeks. Check on Lilith for me, will you? And have Garth reassure her._

_Charlie _

* * *

_Charlie,_

_All is well here. Lilith is fine. There's no need to pass a message to my father or brother. They know where I am if they need me. I'm so sorry about your brother, Charlie. I would be there tomorrow if I could. I'm there in spirit – you know that, don't you? Please give my condolences to the rest of the family – especially George. I know there must be all kinds of support for all of you there… just know I'm thinking of you._

_My love and my gratitude to you all._

_Sky_

* * *

Sky folded Charlie's letter into an inside pocket of her robe, and attached her reply to the owl's leg. "Safe journey," she whispered, and stroked its head. It batted its head against her once, and she handed it a treat. The owl snapped it up and spread its wings, and she lifted her arm to send it off, watching until it was a black speck in the sky. Then she took the shrunken _Prophet_ to Roberto's tent and handed it to him.

A swift Engorgio later, they crowded around the paper. The picture on the front page took Sky's breath away and stopped her heart. It was Snape – obviously dead, bite marks trailing down his neck and arms, his robes a bloody mess, his hair matted with dried blood. He appeared to be lying on a floor near a wall. She did not recognize the room. Feet moved into and out of the picture, Auror's robes swishing past the lens of the camera. The picture alternated with one of a sneering Snape, imposing as always, arms crossed over his chest, standing in Dumbledore's – the Headmaster's – office. The headline read, "Justice Delayed but Not Denied for Voldemort's Chief Death Eater and Traitor to the Wizarding World."

"No!" Sky whispered. "No!"

"Sky…"

"_No!_ He wasn't like that! He wasn't! I…" She swallowed, and, unable to stand it anymore, fled the tent, Roberto's voice holding back someone who intended to follow her. She stumbled into Garth before she was even aware of him, and his agitated bugling finally broke through her tears. "Garth!" she strangled out, and without thinking, threw her arms around the dragon's foreleg, quaking in her pain and sadness. She couldn't get Snape's picture out of her mind… wished she had not seen it… wished she had never known… wished her last memory of him would have been that last conversation – _Be careful, Miss Dessirei. The walls have ears…_

"No!" she choked out, over and over. It echoed off the mountainside and came back to mock her. "_No!_" Garth's rumbling warmth soothed her, but not enough.

It seemed to suck all the life and joy out of her, so that she went about camp and her duties in a daze. Her mind kept trying to make sense of it – Snape's betrayal inconsistent with that flash of alarm and disgust when Sky's father voiced support for Voldemort… his kindness to the Slytherins… his concern that she not put herself at risk… It just didn't fit, no matter how she worried at it… and she finally concluded that either she was no judge of character at all, or that the man was so utterly duplicitous that even his reflexive reactions were lies. It make no sense… caused her to doubt herself. Jamie and Stewart returned two days after Fred's funeral, bringing supplies and news, uncomfortable with Sky's grief and uncertainty.


	11. Skylark's Dragon Part 11

_The universe contained herein belongs to J.K. Rowling. The original characters and plot are mine, and my responsibility.  
No dragons were harmed in the crafting of this story._

This will be the last bit... I hope you've enjoyed it. Please write and let me know. Garth and Lilith thank you... Charlie thanks you... Sky thanks you... And I thank you.

* * *

**Skylark's Dragon Part 11**

****Charlie returned two weeks to the day after he had left, finding them once again back with the Swedish Shortsnouts – a deliberate choice on Roberto's part, as Lilith was showing signs of agitation that were increasingly hard for Sky to quell, either directly or through Garth. He walked into camp mid-afternoon, and was there when they returned from patrol. The six of them crowded around him, shaking his hand, patting his back, hugging him, tears in nearly every eye.

He looked terrible, his face gaunt and pale. He looked like he had dropped several stone. Sky stood near him uncertainly, and when Henry moved away to fetch fire whiskey and loft Charlie's things to his tent, she moved closer. Charlie took her hand without looking at her, automatically, as if knowing she was there and needing it. Only the tightness of his grip gave away the tension he was under, and his need for comfort. She ran her other hand up and down his arm, soothing the back of his hand until his grip loosened a bit.

"I need to talk to Sky," he said, after they had eaten dinner and downed single glasses of fire whiskey. "So, if you'll excuse us…"

_He's going to tell me things have changed,_ she thought, but the fact that he had barely let go of her hand all evening said otherwise. They picked their way out of camp, their way lit by their whispered _Lumos Maxima_, to a nearby outcropping, and sat in silence, looking out over the mountains, the night clear and cool, the moon full, nearly blotting out the stars in its brightness. Sky waited.

"I owe you an apology," he said at last.

"For what, Charlie?" she asked in soft confusion.

He sat for several long moments, then turned toward her, entwining her fingers with his. "You were right about Snape," he said, and she saw the glint of tears in his eyes. "He was innocent."

She gasped. "What? How do you…?"

He rubbed a thumb over her knuckles and with his other hand, wiped his eyes. "Harry," he said. "Harry told us. Sky…" he said, turning pleading eyes to hers, "he was protecting us all the time. He… when he… when George lost his ear, he was trying to save Lupin from a Death Eater and he missed. He meant to get the Death Eater. But it was enough – he saved them."

Tears came to Sky's eyes as Charlie talked. "He saved Harry – numerous times. He… he served the Order – completely. Sky… he was a _good man, _and we all… _I _… misjudged him." He fell silent, still holding onto her hand, waiting while she cried it out.

"But you didn't, Charlie. You were only confused," she said finally. "We all were." She was silent a moment, tears still tracing down her face. "If we had listened with our hearts… We _knew._"

Charlie nodded. "He… died… alone…" and that was too much for him, and he collapsed into her arms, and she knew he was thinking of Fred, and Lupin and Tonks, and others he knew and loved who had fallen. She held him and rocked him against her, soothing her fingers through his hair, murmuring, "It's all right, Charlie… it's all right," though her heart, too, broke – for her Head of House – unknown, despised, misjudged… for Fred – loved, joyful, twin… and for all those who were lost, and all those who had lost someone. She dropped little kisses on Charlie's head and forehead and cheeks, and finally on his lips and they kissed desperately, knowing it was life and love and forgiveness they sought in each other, and both taking and giving it as best they could, while staying decent.

Finally, Charlie kissed her fingers, one by one, and the back of her hand, and her palm, and allowed her to caress him before he held her hand to his chest and looked her in the eyes.

"Amber," he said.

"What?" She was confused.

"Your eyes… are the most beautiful color… blue, with amber highlights."

His fingers traced her eyebrows and touched her eyelids, and she closed them, holding her breath, and he leaned forward and kissed her gently. Then he pulled back. "We have a job to do," he said.

"What is it?" she asked, opening her eyes on a sigh.

"Ron and Harry and Hermione… broke into Gringott's…"

"We know."

"Shh! They broke out on the back of a dragon – a Hungarian Horntail."

She laughed weakly, disbelievingly. "They _what_?"

He nodded grimly. "Ron tells me the beast was injured – and blind. The last they saw, it was heading north, toward Wales. But the Welsh dragon handlers have asked for help. Too many of them lost family… they're needed at home… And..."

"They have no Dragon Master," Sky supplied.

"Exactly. And as the beast is blind… it's either us, or when they find him, they'll have to put him down. They thought if we…"

"Of course. Of course, Charlie. When do we go?"

"First light." He stood and pulled her up to hold tightly against him. He sighed and buried his head against her for a moment. She could feel his heart beating, and the touch of his mind, sad, yearning, hopeful… Then he straightened, "I love you, Amber Sky," he said, looking into her eyes. "I need you. Would you spend the night with me?"

Her answer was to put her arms around his neck and pull him to her for a gentle kiss. "I love you, too, Charlie Weasley. You are my favorite dragon."

He snorted, shook his head and gave a watery laugh. Then he swung her into his arms, over her protests, and carried her off to his – no – _their _– tent.

...oooOOOooo...

_May there always be dragons._


End file.
